


The Measure of Love

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get complicated when an Indian man sets his sights on some of the women in Four Corners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Measure of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Seven Card Stud #7. This is the slash version of the M7 gen story "The Measure of a Man."

**Late morning, on an early June day**

In the corral behind the livery stable six peacekeepers and various townsfolk gathered to watch an expert at work.  Inside the already broken fence, Vin Tanner battled to gentle a feisty buckskin mustang Chris had brought into town the day before, using all the skills taught to him by the People, the Comanche.  It was a sight to behold, the onlookers all agreed, and almost as entertaining as the annual 4th of July picnic.

And, as the crowd continued to enjoy the show the young tracker and the stallion were giving them, four soldiers rode slowly into town, pausing to watch the unfolding spectacle as well.  However, these men didn't seem to appreciate Vin's skills as much as the others who were in attendance.

Almost an hour later, when Vin finally had the buckskin under his control and responding to his gentle touch, the onlookers cheered and clapped, every one of them, except for the four soldiers.

The leader of that small group, a sergeant, was whipcord thin, with sharp, hawk-like features and small, hard grey eyes.  He rode forward, spat into the dust and growled to the man he'd stopped next to, "What is he, some kind 'a half-breed?"

Josiah Sanchez, standing toward the rear of the crowd since he was tall enough to see over most of the other onlookers, glanced up at the sergeant, his smoky, gray-blue eyes narrowed with disapproval.  "Our brother spent some time living among the Indians, but he's a white man, just like you or I," he said in a deep, rumbling voice that made is displeasure with the question clear.

The soldier's eyes narrowed as well, nearly disappearing in his weathered face as he continued to watch Vin.  After a few moments, he shook his head.  "That breed ain't like you an' me, mister.  What was it, Apaches?"

"I believe it was the Comanche," Josiah said, feeling his righteous ire begin to unfurl.

"Comanches, huh."  The man snorted with disdain.  "Figures.  They know their way 'round horses, all right . . . but they're still a bunch 'a filthy, murderin' dogs," he added, then spat again.

Josiah glanced heavenward, silently asking, _Why do you try my patience like this, Lord?  If it's a test, you already know I'm gonna fail. . ._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Chris Larabee, leader of the seven regulators who safeguarded the small town of Four Corners, which was in the Arizona Territory, had seen the four soldiers arrive.  And he'd watched the sergeant's conversation with one of his men, wondering what the Army wanted with Four Corners, or anyone in it.  Given the way the sergeant was eyeing Vin, it probably had something to do with the tracker, or trouble.  Vin Tanner seemed to attract trouble, in spades.

Larabee finally decided he'd better find out.  And, sighing softly, he worked his way over to join the former preacher, asking, "Some trouble here, Josiah?"

"No, no trouble," the big man replied, but his tone was less than generous as he shot the soldier an angry glower.  "The Sergeant and I were just discussing where Vin learned his remarkable skills with horses."

Larabee glanced up at the soldier, suspicious and a little hostile.  He'd seen and heard what soldiers generally thought about white men who had lived among the Indians.

The sergeant looked away from Vin and glanced down at Larabee, who was dressed from head to toe in black.  "We were sent from Fort Buchanan," he said.  "Looks like the Apaches are makin' trouble again – might be Victorio and his boys, but we can't be sure 'til we round 'em up.  They hooked up with some reservation jumpers from the Indian Territory, Kiowa-Apaches mostly.  Major thinks they might be headed for Mexico.  We're here to see to it they don't bother any of you fine people none."  His voice dripped with sarcasm.  "Heard there's some hired guns or the like lookin' out for this town?"

Chris nodded, inclining his head toward Josiah.  "You've found two of 'em."

The sergeant grunted and spat into the dust near Larabee's boots.  "Major McNabb wants t' talk to whoever's in charge of the bunch.  We're bivouacked 'bout a mile from town, along the creek."

"I'll ride out later," Chris said, fighting the urge to shoot the man where he sat, just on general principles.  Something about the soldier rubbed him wrong, and he didn't like the way he was watching Vin – like he wasn't sure if he wanted to force the tracker into his bed, or shoot him like a rabid dog before Tanner bit somebody.

"Major wants to see ya now," the sergeant half-growled.

"The Major will just have to wait," Larabee replied, turning away and starting back to the corral just as Buck Wilmington opened the gate and Vin rode the dancing buckskin out into the street, scattering the onlookers who didn't want to get too close to the still half-wild horse.  Vin was talking to JD, who was pointing and gesturing excitedly.

"Hey, mister!" the sergeant called, starting to ride after Larabee, but Josiah stepped in front of his horse, stopping him.

"Tell the Major we won't be long," the former preacher said, then flashed the sergeant a toothy grin.  "We just have to see a man about a horse first."

The soldier looked over to where the man in black was talking to the half-breed and frowned.  "That breed one of you regulators, too?"

"He is," Josiah said, his voice low and hard, carrying a clear threat of the consequences if the soldier meant Vin any harm.

The sergeant grunted, shook his head and spat again, then reined his horse around and started away only to stop again when Vin let loose with a war cry that rattled the windows before the tracker took off after JD and his fleet gelding, the two young men racing, full out, into the hot noon-day desert.

The atmosphere among the onlookers immediately turned more festive, bets on both men being called out from both sides of the street.  Ezra Standish's voice rose above the others, setting odds and defining terms.

Josiah watched, curious, as Buck shimmied up a corner post with Vin's pale red bandanna held between his teeth.

"They're almost to the big mesquite!" Nathan called down from his vantage point outside his second story clinic.  "JD's in the lead, but not by much!"

"Go, JD!" Buck hollered at the top of his lungs, waving the bandanna wildly from his precarious perch.

The crowd shifted, men rising onto their toes as they watched two riders reach the large mesquite tree and circle tightly around it before racing off toward an old, broken down wagon.  Vin edged into the lead as they circled that object as well.  The competitors turned their horses, thundering back toward the livery corral.

Josiah watched the soldiers as they observed the race, a cold chill settling in his gut.  _Lord, whatever's coming, I hope you'll keep a close watch over us, especially Vin_ , he prayed silently, then walked over to join Chris, Buck and Ezra, asking, "What're they racing for?"

"I have no earthly idea," the gambler replied with a sigh.  "It is too ungodly hot to be working, let alone out racing but, since we find ourselves here, we might as well make the most of it."  He turned, taking more bets with a flash of his gold tooth when Nathan called out that JD was in the lead again.  When he looked back at the others he added, "After all, there is no reason we shouldn't add to our profits if they choose to engaged in this foolishness."

"We?" Chris asked Josiah, who just grinned and shook his head.  There was no standing between Ezra and a good bet.

"Here they come!" Buck whooped, then yelled loudly, "Come on, JD!  Come on, kid!  You can do it!  Come on!"

"They're going for that bandanna?" Josiah asked, nodding at the square piece cloth Buck had hung, suspended by a piece of twine, from a post that stuck out from the eaves of the boardwalk, which ended at the livery on the southern edge of town.

"They are indeed," Ezra said.  "And I strongly suggest we give ground, gentlemen, since I, for one, plan to live long enough to enjoy my winnings when Mr. Tanner triumphs.  The man is a positive miracle worker when it comes to horseflesh."

The four regulators moved away, along with many of the spectators as the riders' bore down on their goal, dust flying up behind their straining horses.

          But, at the last possible moment, as they reached the corral, Vin veered off, the buckskin stallion streaking though the enclosure and leaping the far fence, the top rail of which had been broken earlier when the animal had tried to crush Vin against the wood and broke it in half.

          The tracker grabbed the bandanna, shoved it between his teeth and then hauled back on the reins with both hands, the buckskin sliding to a stop with a snort, his haunches tucked under him.  Several men in the crowd hooted and hollered while others loudly groaned or cursed.  Several seconds later JD reached the tracker, his horse also sliding to a stop.

          "You cheated!" the young sheriff accused, surprised by the maneuver, but still marveling at how easily the mustang had leaped over the barrier.

          "Cheated?" Vin asked hotly, grabbing the cloth from his mouth.  "Whatcha talkin' 'bout, JD?"

          "You took a shorter path!"

          "Hell, kid, all y' said was: 'n' back t' the livery.  Y' didn't say _how_ we's supposed t' get here."

          Chris and the others all laughed at JD's confounded expression.

"I think he's got you there, JD," Buck said, shaking his head and grinning.

          Then Vin grinned and handed Dunne the bandanna.  A cheer went up from the men who had cursed earlier, and the ones who had cheered now groaned.

          Ezra glanced around nervously.  "The race has already been won," he stated loudly for everyone to hear.  "Therefore, there is no merit in giving Mr. Dunne the bandanna.  _You_ are the winner, Mr. Tanner."

          "Both paths t' the prize had merit," Vin countered the gambler.  "We both won; we just took different paths is all."

          "You _both_ won?" Ezra echoed, chuckling softly.  "That, Mr. Tanner, is like saying there are two sides to the truth."

          "There is sometimes," Vin replied with a grin.

          "Oh really?" the gambler asked, his hands on his hips, head cocked to one side in challenge.

          "Yep – when one's yours and one's mine," the tracker said, wheeling the buckskin away and galloping off down the street, JD following on his heels, laughing.

          Some of the crowd pressed in around Ezra, who announced loudly, "The winner was Mr. Tanner!  I will pay those who bet on Mr. Tanner!"

          Chris shook his head, watching the gambler work the crowd.  "Guess we better go see what Major McNabb wants," he said to Josiah, then looked up and gestured for Nathan to come down and join them.

          The former preacher nodded even as he sighed heavily.  Whatever McNabb had to say, Sanchez was sure it meant trouble for them.

          "Major who?" Buck asked jogging up alongside his long-time friend, looking curious and confused at the same time.

          Chris nodded at the soldiers, now heading slowly out of town.  "Sergeant said the Apaches are on the prowl again.  Army's set up a camp outside of town to keep 'em off our backs.  Man in charge is a Major McNabb, and he wants to talk to us."

"This I got t' hear," Buck said, his expression sour.

"I admit I'm curious as well," Josiah agreed.  "I haven't heard anything about renegades being on the prowl around here."

Chris turned to the healer when he joined them, explaining what had happened with the soldiers, finishing, "We're riding out to see what the hell the Army wants.  Keep an eye on Vin, will ya?  You know how he can get when there's Indians involved."

          The black man nodded and grinned.  "If I can catch him, I'll do that."

          Larabee shook his head, glancing off down the street, the two racers nowhere in sight.  He hoped this wouldn't mean trouble for Tanner.  He and the tracker were still getting used to their developing relationship and he didn't think he could survive losing someone else he loved.  "Yeah, good luck," he told Jackson, knowing the healer would do whatever he had to in order to keep Vin safe.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**A short while later**

          The three regulators rode into the Army camp, the majority of the soldiers ignoring them as they went about their assigned tasks, but a few looked up, watching them pass, their expressions all hostile to one degree or another.

          "Brings back more 'n a few memories, don't it, pard?" Buck asked Larabee quietly as he glanced around the encampment.

          "Yeah," Chris agreed, then added, "and most of 'em bad."

          "Amen to that, brother," Josiah agreed.

          The big ladies' man nodded as well.

          They stopped just short of the largest tent in the camp – two of the canvas walls having been rolled up and tied off, providing both shade and allowing a cooling breeze to flow though the tent – and dismounted.  A young man hurried over and offered to take their horses for them.

          "Just stand here and hold 'em, Private," Chris instructed the boy without really looking at him.  "We won't be long."  And with that he ducked and stepped under the canopy without bothering to knock or announce himself.  Buck and Josiah were right behind him.

          McNabb looked up from where he sat, reading over the latest duty roster.  He stood, and when the three men reached his desk he extended his hand to Larabee, who he could sense was the leader of the three men, saying, "Major Zebulon McNabb.  I've been expecting you, gentlemen."

McNabb was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark red hair and piercing green eyes.  His uniform was clean and well-tended, his hand soft.  And Larabee took an instant dislike to the man.  The major reminded the gunman of other officers he'd met during the war – men who saw the Army as a means to climbing a social ladder right into Washington D.C. and a safe, profitable, government job.

          "Major," Chris replied, taking a step back and hooking his thumbs under his gun belt.  "Your sergeant said you wanted to talk to us."

          McNabb nodded as he sat down.  He gestured to other chairs in the tent.  Buck and Josiah sat; Larabee stayed on his feet.

          The officer scowled slightly, but he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desktop, the pads of his fingers pressed together in a somewhat prayer-like gesture, and said, "So, the three of you are the law in Four Corners?"

"We're part of it, there're more of us," Chris said, then waited for the man to get to the reason they had been asked there.

"More?  How many?"

Chris hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Seven."

"Seven?  Well, the townsfolk of Four Corners are lucky indeed to have so many hired guns looking out for their welfare."

Chris made no reply, still waiting for the man to get to the point.

"Yes, well," McNabb said, a little annoyed, "I can see you're busy men.  We've had reports of renegades in the area – Apaches from over near Ojo Caliente in New Mexico Territory.  They hooked up with some Comanche and others who left the Indian Territory.  The Apaches are probably some of Victorio's men, but we can't be sure.  In any case, we believe they're getting help from one of the domesticated tribes around here.  We don't know which one – yet – but we _will_ find out who the sympathizers are, and when we do, they will be appropriately punished.  I'd appreciate it if you'd pass along any information you might have, or overhear, and have your men ready in case we run these savages to ground.  If the locals rise up to defend them, we may, conceivably, need help protecting your community until more troops arrive from Fort Bowie or Tucson."

          "We haven't heard anything about renegades," Buck said, then asked the officer, "These Indians killed or hurt anybody?"

          "Just a few cattle and sheep so far, but it's only a matter of time.  Now, can I count on your help?"  McNabb glanced at the three men, waiting for someone to respond.

Finally, Josiah nodded, saying, "We'll let you know if we hear anything, but we know the Indians who live around here, rather well, in fact, and I find it hard to believe they'd do anything to harm–"

"You'd be amazed at what some of these savages will do, sir.  But I have seen the depravity they can embrace."  McNabb sighed and continued, saying, "Sergeant Evans tells me there's a breed living in Four Corners?"

          "He's no half-breed," Chris growled, his voice turning low and dangerous.  "He's a white man, just like the rest of us in this tent."

          McNabb leaned back.  "I see.  But it is true that he spent time living among the Indians.  Comanche, I believe the Sergeant said – correct?"

          "Oh, yeah that's right.  Kiowa, too," Buck goaded the major, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.

          "His loyalty–"

          "Isn't something _you_ need to worry about, Major," Larabee interrupted, his tone icy.

          "Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  I'm assuming this is the same man who was involved in the Mosley incident?" the major asked them.

          "The Reverend Mosley accused an _innocent_ man of kidnapping," Josiah said, leaning forward, his gaze locked on the officer's.  " _Mosley_ killed his own daughter and blamed it on Chanu, who was her _husband_."

          "Yes, I'm aware of the facts, sir.  Your Mrs. Travis provides an informative newspaper, even if her editorials are somewhat . . . naïve, shall we say, when it comes to the Indians.  But I understand that this bre– excuse me, this white man, released the buck from jail when it still appeared that _he_ was the one guilty of kidnapping and rape."

          "Rape never entered the conversation," Buck snapped, sitting up again, blue eyes flashing.

          "And he didn't _let_ Chanu go.  Chanu damn near killed him escaping," Chris snarled, remembering the flash of icy terror that had raced through his guts when he'd seen Vin lying on the floor of the jail that night.  It was the first time he realized just how much the tracker had come to mean to him.

          "All I'm trying to say, gentlemen, is that there may be a sympathizer in town – someone who's helping these renegades.  And they _must_ be getting help.  They've eluded us and our tracker at every turn.  Perhaps it's someone besides a local tribe.  I'm only trying to determine if this man poses a threat to–"

          "We'll keep an ear open," Larabee interrupted him, "and we'll let you know if we hear anything about these renegades of yours, but Vin's no threat to you, or the folks in Four Corners."  The gunman's hazel eyes narrowed.  "Be best if you remembered that, and left him alone."  He turned and left without a backward glance.

          Buck and Josiah both shoved to their feet.

          "I don't want this Vin fellow helping these renegades," McNabb warned them.  "If I find he has been–"

          Buck flashed McNabb a hot glare, then followed on Larabee's heels, but Josiah stopped, his hat in his hands.  He looked down at the major, saying, "Vin's not the one you need to be worrying about, Major."  Then he settled his hat on his head, turned and left.

          McNabb watched them go, sighing and shaking his head.  He would find the renegades, and whoever was helping them, regardless of who it might be.  And when he did, he would kill all of them, which, hopefully, would be enough to get him transferred back East, where he belonged, not in this godforsaken wilderness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **That evening**

          Chris and Vin rode together toward Larabee's cabin.  The buckskin stallion, now wearing a halter and lead, was tied to the gunman's saddle horn, and followed along after the pair, dancing, his head tossing as much as he could manage.

A comfortable silence had fallen between the two men after Larabee had told the tracker about his visit with Major McNabb, Vin turning over the news in his mind as they rode along.  Finally, Tanner broke the quiet, saying, "Reckon I better go see if they's really renegades on the prowl, or just a few Indians, tryin' t' find family down in Mexico."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Larabee replied.  "The Major gets wind you're anywhere near those Indians, he's going to assume you're helping 'em.  That's just asking for trouble."

Vin grinned.  "Hell, Chris, I've been one step ahead 'a blue-bellies most m' life.  They ain't goin' t' see me."

Chris fought back a grin at the cocky assurance in the man's voice.  "All right, if you think you can find out what's going on, we might as well get a jump on McNabb and his boys.  When do you think you'll leave?"

"Little b'fore dawn."

Larabee nodded and the two men lapsed back into silence for the rest of the trip to the small cabin where they took care of their horses, and then went inside.  Chris made coffee for them, then some supper.  While they ate the light meal, Vin told the gunman what he knew about Victorio, all of it from stories and rumors.  Then they cleaned up and headed into the small bedroom.

The two men undressed in silence, both laying their clothes out so they could dress quickly if necessity demanded it.  Then they went to the bed.

Chris nodded and Vin climbed on and laid down first, arms stretched above his head, his legs open, inviting.

The older man sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to caress Tanner's forehead, then ran his hand over the man's chest, enjoying the feel of the tracker's skin, and the light dusting of hair that grew thicker as it blazed a path to his groin.  He never tired of the sensation of Vin's goose bumps rising on his skin, or the way the man's nipples rose into tiny, sharp peaks that demanded his attention.

And he gave in to that silent command, leaning over to lick the closest of those puckered nubs, letting the feel of it tickle the surface of his tongue.  He closed his lips around it and sucked on it like it was a stalk of sweetgrass.  And it was sweet, fueling his appetite for the tracker.

He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between Vin's spread legs, drinking in the beauty of the man – long hair tangled around his head, neck arched back, exposing the curve of his throat, lips parted, inviting.  Chris reached out, hands running from Vin's hips to his shoulders, then leaning over him, Larabee lowered his mouth to Tanner's, lips brushing lightly, teasing.  Then he ground his mouth down on Vin's, and the tracker responded, his lips opening, his tongue dueling with Larabee's.

Tanner's hands grabbed Chris' sides, trying to pull him down on top of him, but the blond resisted, enjoying the rush of power he felt, being in control of the pleasure he was visiting upon the tracker.  And so he continued to ravage Vin's mouth, plundering it of all the treasures he could find.  Then he pulled back, resting back on his heels, panting.

Vin moaned, his eyes opening, his hips lifting, thrusting his hard cock at Larabee.

Chris grinned, reaching out to close his fingers around that thick, straining shaft.  He leaned over and gently licked the underside of Tanner's hard cock.  A small bead of silver precome started to form at the tip.  And, as Chris continued to lick, the bead slowly started to drip down the underside of Vin's cock.  Larabee expertly flicked his tongue and caught it and, after savoring its texture and taste, he pushed himself higher, and slowly eased his mouth over the head of Vin's cock.

At first, he only held the flared head between his lips.  Then, slowly, almost ponderously, he began to ease the entire length of Vin's swollen cock into his mouth.

The tracker mewed like a contented kitten as Chris sucked and worked over him, locking and sucking, bobbing his head up and down.  A low groan a short while later told Chris that Vin was getting closer.  And then Vin's legs started to quiver.

"Please, I need y', Chris," Vin begged softly, almost too softly to be heard over the wet sounds of Chris' working on his cock.  But Chris did hear him and he eased his mouth off Tanner's throbbing, aching erection.

The gunman shifted position, for a while just resting there, his legs on either side of Vin's body, their slick cocks rubbing against each other as Chris bent down and kissed the younger man.  Their tongues danced together as they hissed and moaned into each other's mouths.

Then Chris shifted again, this time taking the small tin of sweet-smelling ointment and rubbing it over his own straining cock.  While he did, Vin lifted his knees and tilted his hips back against the bed, waiting.

When Larabee was done, he scooped out a little more of the slick material on this fingers and rubbed it over Tanner's small, puckered hole, pressing most of it inside the tight ring of muscle.  He sank one finger deep into the impossibly hot, tight channel and probed for that special spot he knew was buried there.  And Vin twisted under him, trying to embed Larabee's finger as deeply as he could.

Chris pulled out and immediately pushed back in with two fingers, scissoring them open and closed, stretching Vin, preparing him for what was coming.  When he felt the muscles begin to loosen, he pulled his fingers free and grabbed the back of his own cock.  He held it, rubbing it against Tanner's asshole, shifting back and forth, teasing the opening until Vin was moaning with frustration.

Chris shoved forward, forcing his wide crown into the spasming hole, then stopped.  Tanner cried out as he was penetrated, his eyes squeezing closed against the flash of pain.  But that pain quickly faded, replaced by a spreading pleasure that soon had his hips lifting and lowering as he forced Chris deeper inside of himself.

And then Larabee began to move as well, his hips working in slow, even strokes that soon had him sliding all the way in and pulling almost all the way out.  He reached out, his hand still slick, and grabbed Tanner's cock, jerking it in time with the rocking of his hips.

The moment was special, intimate and timeless, their joining intense and passionate, but comfortable as well.  Like old lovers who had never lost the power of new love.  And it carried both men into a world only they could share.

Chris rocked gently, back and forth, listening to the sounds he made, sliding in and out of Vin's body, and to the moans that escaped both of their throats and lips.

They were lost in that shared world for a time, caught between the hardness of their cocks, the source of their desires, and the overwhelming release of orgasm, which seemed to be somewhere close, but not too close.

But then the fever started, taking over each of their bodies.  The speed and vigor of Chris' ride increased and Vin grabbed his own cock, his hand over Larabee's, forcing the gunman to fist him in a fast counter-point to his being fucked.

Tanner's groan climbed the sexual music scale from turned on to starting to come.  Which he did in jerking, quaking spasms, shooting his seed all over both of their bellies.  He cried out when he felt Chris' cock swell within his ass as it released a torrent of semen into his body.

Their orgasms seemed to last as long as their fucking and kissing: timeless and indefinable.  And when it finally ended, when they were too exhausted to anything but sleep, Chris managed to climb off Vin and crawl up next to him, kissing him on the cheek and falling asleep.

Just before he lost consciousness, though, Larabee felt Vin kiss him back and he heard the tracker say, "God how I love y', Chris."

Larabee just smiled and whispered back, "No more 'n I love you. . . ."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **Early in the morning**

About an hour before sunup, Chris followed Vin out to the barn, lighting a lamp so the tracker could see to saddle Peso.  "You sure you don't want to me to come along, watch your back?" he asked hopefully.  He really didn't want to let Tanner go alone.

          Vin shook his head.  "Best if I go alone, Cowboy.  I'll be back by mornin' after next – at the latest."  He turned and met the man's concerned gaze.  "Cain't stay away from y' any longer 'n that."

          The gunslinger smiled and felt himself blush, but he nodded his understanding.  "You watch your back, Vin."

          Tanner nodded, then reached out and pulled Larabee in for a deep, lingering kiss that left both men short of breath.  He grinned, promising, "I'll make it up t' y'."  Then he touched his finger to the brim of his hat, swung up into his saddle and reined his big black gelding away, Peso heading off into the darkness at a comfortable, ground-eating lope.

          Chris watched until he could no longer hear the sound of the gelding's hoof beats, silently hoping Vin would be all right.  But something deep in the pit of his stomach was telling him that trouble was coming, and when it did, it usually managed to find Vin Tanner.

He shook off the dark thoughts and glanced over at the cabin, not looking forward to spending the next night or two in an empty bed.  He had come to love the scruffy tracker as deeply as he'd loved Sarah.  It confused him, left him feeling guilty at times, but be didn't care.  He was alive again, and it was thanks to a stubborn Texan.

Blowing out the flame in the lamp, he headed back to the cabin, closing the door and walking back to his bed.  Pulling his clothes off, he climbed in and closed his eyes, drawing in Tanner's scent through his nostrils, letting that and the memories of their love making lure him into a deep sleep for a few hours.  When he woke, he'd spend the day working around the cabin, trying not to miss Vin, trying not to worry about him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **The following morning**

          Chris rode slowly up to join Josiah on a small ridge just northeast of town.  They had both completed their morning patrols and met up at the familiar landmark to ride back to town together.

"Morning," the preacher greeted as Larabee reached him.

          Chris nodded.  "Anything?"

          Josiah shook his head.  "No sign of any renegades, and no one's complaining that they've seen them, or lost any stock.  You?"

          "The same."

          The big preacher started to turn his horse for home, but paused, cocking his head to the side and squinting into the distance.  "That what I think it is?" he asked Larabee, nodding.

          Chris turned in his saddle, looking off in the same direction as Josiah.  "Shit," he swore softly, fear squeezing his chest and making his heart beat faster.  "Vin's still out here somewhere."

          "Then we'd better take a look," Josiah replied, frowning worriedly.  He doubted anyone else had figured out about the new relationship Larabee and Tanner shared, but he had, and he knew the cold fear that must be pounding through Larabee's veins right now.

          Larabee nodded.  "Let's ride."  _Please, Vin, please don't do this to me . . . I can't do this.  I can't lose you, too._

          The two men reined their horses and headed off at a fast gallop toward the circling carrion birds, neither man voicing the thing they both feared most.

          Several minutes later, Chris jerked his gelding to a halt, panic flaring through his chest with his first glance at the body lying sprawled on the ground.  Then he took a deep breath and dismounted, walking over to stand next to Josiah, who had knelt down on one knee beside the dead man.

          For a brief moment the man's hide coat and buckskin trousers had turned the gunslinger's blood to ice, but the dead man's long, black hair assured him that Vin was still alive.  _Thank God_ , he thought, wishing again he hadn't allowed Vin to go alone.

          "You know him?" Larabee asked the preacher.

          Josiah nodded, reaching out to gently squeeze the dead man's shoulder.  "I've spoken to him several times in Ko-Je's camp.  They call him Eagle Child, because of his gentle soul, and the fact that his thoughts were always up in the clouds, soaring with the eagles."  He shook his head.  "He can't be more than eighteen years old."

          "Guess we'd better take him back to his people," Chris said with a tired sigh, beginning to check the ground for any signs that might tell him who had killed the young man.  He didn't find anything that made sense.  "Maybe it's the renegades," he said, frowning.  "There are a lot of tracks here, almost all of them unshod."

          "Or an overzealous soldier," Josiah replied, anger only partially hidden in his voice.  "Army's been known to take their horses' shoes off when they're tracking renegades, so the Indians can't tell who's following them."

          "Well, maybe Vin can tell us who was responsible when he gets back," Chris offered.

          "Even a humming bird leaves a trail in the air, if we have the eyes to see it," the preacher said, "and I do believe our bother Vin could do just that."

          Chris snorted softly, but he nodded.  "Some days, watchin' him work, I'd believe that myself."

          Josiah grabbed a blanket from his bedroll and the two men bent over and rolled Eagle Child onto his back, both of them jerking away when they saw the dead man's open, bloody wounds.  He had been cut up, badly.

"Good Lord," Josiah breathed, "this boy's been tortured."

Chris nodded, his lips disappearing into a thin line of anger and worry.  Vin was out here, and so was whoever had done this.

Without speaking, they rolled Eagle Child into the blanket and draped him over the back of the preacher's horse, tying him down securely.  Then they set off for Ko-Je's camp, both of them grim-faced and silent.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **The next morning**

          Vin rode into Four Corners, heading straight for the saloon, but he slowed and tipped his hat when Mary stepped out of the _Clarion_ office, dressed in riding clothes.

          Shading her eyes from the bright morning sun with her hand, she smiled up at him and said, "Welcome back."

          "Where y' headed?" he asked her, his tone concerned.

          "I'm going out to talk to Major McNabb, for the paper."  She frowned slightly, picking up on Vin's anxiousness.  "Vin, Chris said you were checking on the Army's story about the Indians.  Are there really renegades out there?"

          Vin sighed softly.  "There's some Indians out there, but they ain't renegades, no matter what McNabb tells ya.  All the same, y' be careful."

          She looked a little surprised.  "I will.  Are they Apaches?"

          "Some of 'em," he replied enigmatically.

          "Vin," she said, stepping up alongside the man's horse.  She reached up to rest her hand on his forearm and continued, "After I talk to Major McNabb, I'd like to talk to you about what you've found; what you think is going on here.  I don't want to see any bloodshed if it can be avoided."

          He thought for a moment, then nodded his agreement.  "Reckon that'll be all right – long as y' don't use m' name."

          She nodded her understanding.  "Thank you."  She started off toward the livery and Vin drew up at the Standish Tavern.

Sliding out of his saddle, Tanner paused, watching until Mary was out of sight, then walked inside, finding Chris and the others just finishing their breakfasts.  He caught the flash of relief in the gunslinger's eyes and it warmed him.  Friendships had always been fleeting over the course of his life, most of them stripped away by death or sickness, but these six men had proved to be an exception, and for that he was profoundly grateful.  And Larabee had filled an entirely different hole in Vin's heart.  The blond was more than a friend, more than a brother.  Chris was like a piece of his own soul, living in another body, which, he thought, might explain the uncanny way they seemed able to communicate without words.  And he never felt as whole as he did when they were intimately joined, and then it was as if he were feeling Chris' pleasure, as well as his own.

          Walking over to join the others, Vin sat down in the empty chair at the table – between Chris and Josiah – and reached for what was left of the food.

          "Well?" Chris asked him once Vin's plate was full.

          The tracker looked up, saying, "There's Indians out there, but they ain't renegades.  Most of 'em are 'Paches – Jicarilla from the looks of 'em – but they got others with 'em, too – Comanche, couple 'a Kiowa-'Pache.  They're prob'ly married t' Jicarilla women.  An' they got plenty 'a women an' kids with 'em, too.  Don't think they'll give us any trouble."  He met Larabee's gaze adding, "McNabb's either stupid or jist lyin'.  They ain't headed t' Mexico, they're headed northeast, prob'ly got split up when they's rounded up an' sent t' whatever reservations they's on before they run.  I'd be willin' t' bet they're tryin' t' get t' back t' their lands, not hole up down in Mexico."

"If that's so, why come here?" Buck asked the tracker, confused.  "This ain't exactly on the way north from New Mexico Territory."

Vin glanced around the table, wondering how the men would react to what he'd discovered.  "Reckon, they come here t' pick up more family livin' 'round here b'fore they turned north.  Ko-Je's people have been helpin' 'em, so I reckon some of 'em were livin' on the reservation with him."

"Are you sure about this?" Josiah asked, then immediately shook his head.  "Sorry, brother, I know you are."

Vin met the older man's eyes and said, "They ain't done nothin' wrong, J'siah; ain't been botherin' nobody.  They don't get crowded, they ain't goin' t' slow down, 'cept maybe t' kill a steer here or there t' keep 'em from starvin' on the trip, an' hell, I figg'r they's owed that much fer what's been done t' 'em."

"Sounds like the Army ought to know they ain't heading to Mexico by now," Chris said, looking worried and annoyed.  "Especially if they hired themselves a tracker."

Vin nodded.  "Should, but McNabb's got his boys out lookin' south an' southeast.  Either he's purely stupid or he's gettin' some bad leads t' follow."

          "Well, one thing is sure, these renegades wouldn't have killed one of Ko-Je's boys if they'd found him out alone," Josiah said.  "That just leaves the Army . . . or someone local."

          Vin looked up, surprised and worried.  "One of Ko-Je's people got killed?"

Josiah nodded sadly.

"Where'd it happen?"

          "Few miles north of the Salt Creek ridge," Chris said.  "Happened yesterday, some time in the early morning from the looks of it."

          Vin shook his head.  "Weren't these Indians then.  They slipped south an' they've been travelin' north along the western hills fer three days.  And they're makin' 'n effort t' stay away from settlers an' the Army.  Who was it?" he asked Josiah.

          "Eagle Child," the preacher replied sadly.  "Chris and I found him yesterday and took him back to the reservation.  He'd been cut up, badly – looked like someone took their time on him.  I'm going to ride out there later this morning and talk to Ko-Je about what's going on."

          "Damn," Vin said, his appetite disappearing.  "Y' tell Ko-Je and Chanu t' be careful.  What I saw an' overheard, McNabb's jist lookin' fer a reason t' kill hisself some Indians, an' he ain't particular which ones.  Ko-Je's people get caught helpin' these folks, McNabb'll have his men ride down on 'em jist out 'a spite.  But y' best wait 'til t'morrow t' go.  They're gonna have t' get Eagle Child ready t' meet the spirits t'day; won't want t' be interrupted."

Josiah nodded, wishing he knew half of what Vin did when it came to various Indian cultures.

Vin looked at Chris.  "Y' show me where y' found Eagle Child?"

          Larabee nodded.  "Planned to, but finish your breakfast," he told the tracker.

          Vin flashed him a grin, knowing Chris could be worse than an old mother hen he if got to worrying over someone.  He pushed his sadness aside and dug into the meal, knowing he was going to need it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          As Mary rode along the creek road, her spine slowly stiffened.  She glanced warily around at the desert landscape.  It felt like someone was watching her, but she couldn't see anyone, and her horse didn't seen at all nervous.  Still, she'd learned to trust her instincts so she stayed in the center of the wagon road, only leaving it to avoid the occasional clumps of trees and brushes the path passed when it wound closer to the creek bank.

          And her instincts were good.  In the shadows of several palo verdes, a tall, dark-haired tracker watched her ride past.  He licked his lips as he stared at the swell of her breasts, her long, graceful neck, her shining, blonde hair.  His eyes narrowed as his desire rose and he knew he could take her, if he wanted to.  And he wanted to.

          But then the ubiquitous buzz of the cicada disappeared and he heard the sound of another rider approaching along the road at a fast lope.  The tracker stayed where he was, cursing softly to himself as one of McNabb's soldiers appeared.

"Mrs. Travis?" the lieutenant asked the blonde woman as he pulled up in front of her.

"Yes," she replied, her hand reaching for the rifle in its scabbard.

"I'm Lieutenant Fitzhugh, ma'am.  Major McNabb sent me to escort you to the camp.  With renegades on the loose, he didn't want to take any chances.  I'm just sorry you got this far without an escort."

"Very well, Lieutenant," Mary said, relaxing.  She glanced around, wondering if the approaching soldier was what she'd sensed earlier, but somehow she doubted it.

"If you'll just ride along with me, ma'am."

The dark-haired tracker watched the woman and the soldier continue on toward the encampment together and sighed, frustrated.  Turning, he stalked back to where his own woman waited with two horses.  He grabbed his reins from her and swung up into his saddle.

          "I'm goin' to the Army camp.  You come, but no talk to nobody, y' hear, woman?" he snapped at her.

          Northwind nodded, her gaze averted.  She could hear the two horses moving down the road, and wondered who it had been, and why La Croix was so angry.

"I catch y' talkin' t' anyone," he snarled, "I'll cut out your tongue.  Y' hear me, woman?"

She nodded.

He turned his horse and headed off at a lope, already wondering who the blonde was and what she was going to see McNabb about.

Northwind watched her husband leave, then shouldered her heavy pack and took the pack horse's reins and started walking, trailing behind him as quickly as she could.  It would not be wise to be late with the mood La Croix was in.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **A short while later**

          The dark-haired tracker rode into the Army camp, glancing around.  He saw the blonde woman's horse tied in front of Major McNabb's tent and frowned, wondering again who she was.  She didn't look like a necessary woman, which was part of what had attracted him to her, but he could be wrong.  What other kind of woman would be coming out here?

          But he had other things to attend to in the camp, and he knew it was time to get on with them.  He dismounted and walked over to the mess tent, getting himself a cup of coffee and listening to the soldiers talk.  Eventually, his woman caught up, walking into the encampment, her head down.  Northwind went straight to his horse and stood there, waiting like a faithful dog for him to return and tell her what to do next.  He smiled and chuckled softly to himself.  Yes, she was his faithful bitch.

          He stood and walked out to join her, snarling softly, "Remember, no look, no talk."

          Northwind nodded, her head down, gaze on the ground, just like he expected.

          The tracker left her there and went to search out Sergeant Evans, who, after they had spoken, told him McNabb was busy, talking to Mrs. Travis, a widow who ran the _Clarion_ , a newspaper in Four Corners.  The tracker laughed and shook his head – a woman who worked her own newspaper?  She must be loose if she was living like a man.

          Several minutes later he saw the blonde step out of the major's tent.  Mrs. Travis saw Northwind and stopped, speaking to the Indian woman, but Northwind looked away and refused to reply to her.  The tracker smiled.  He had trained his squaw well, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to train the blonde.  A much tougher fight, he was sure, but it would be well worth it in the end, of that he was sure as well.

          Northwind met his eyes briefly and he saw the blonde glance his way as well.  He met her gaze and smiled hungrily.  She looked away from him, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

He licked his lips as he watched Mrs. Travis mount her horse and leave.  He would make sure he saw the blonde woman again – soon.  But the sergeant called him over before he could follow her then, holding the major's tent flap open for him and telling him to hurry, McNabb was a busy man.

          The tracker cursed softly and walked over, entering as he had been bid.

          "La Croix, what the hell are you doing here?  I paid you a ransom in gold to find those damned savages, not prowl around my camp.  We haven't found a damn thing where you said to look last.  Why aren't you out there, looking for them?"

          "I'll find them, Major," the tracker said, reaching out to help himself to the half-sandwich setting on a white china plate on the officer's desk.  The scent of the blonde woman lingered in the air and he knew the food was something she had declined.  "Thought I'd found 'em, but it was just some reservation buck, out lookin' for game."

          "What did you do?" McNabb asked, suddenly suspicious of the look in the tracker's eyes.

          "Just asked him a few questions, Major, that's all.  He ain't gonna be a problem."

          "I don't need any outbreaks of hostility among the domesticated tribes interfering with this campaign, La Croix.  Unless, of course, you find that they're helping these renegades, in which case we'll see to it they don't ever help any of these murdering beasts again, domesticated or no.  I plan to round these filthy savages up as quickly as possible and get back to the Fort.  I do _not_ plan to spend a single day more of my career in this godforsaken desert than necessary."

          "Ah, yes, well, you'll be doin' these settlers a service, Major," the tracker said with a grin, "killin' these renegades.  Have you seen what the Apaches and their friends can do to a body?" he asked, knowing the officer had not.  "It is not the dyin' that hurts, Major, it's the gettin' to be dead.  Oh, yeah, there's the real agony."

          "Yes, well, we have more than enough men here to deal with these savages.  _If_ you find them.  So, I suggest you get back out there and do what you've been paid to do, La Croix."

          "And I will, Major, but I need more money, to buy information from some of the local tribes.  And when I do, I'll also know who's been helpin' them renegades to give us the slip."

          McNabb stared up at the tracker, wondering if the man was lying or not.  Not that it mattered, as long as he found some heathens for him to kill.  Still, something about the tracker bothered McNabb.  But, until he could find someone to take La Croix's place, he was stuck doing business with the man.  He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small leather pouch.  Opening it, he took out a few silver coins.

LaCroix held out his hand, but McNabb let the coins fall onto the desktop instead of into the man's open palm.  "I'll expect some positive results within the week."  He looked up at La Croix, holding his gaze.  "Or I will find myself another tracker – one with better skills.  There's a breed in town, maybe _he_ can find these savages, if you cannot."

          La Croix reached out and swept the coins off the desk and into his hand.  "I'll find 'em, Major, don't you worry about that."  He walked to the tent flap and paused.  "Goin' t' try to the west.  You have your boys ready to ride, if I find something."  He shoved the flap aside and stepped back out into the heat and sun.  He snapped his fingers and Northwind came over to join him, leading his horse.

          The tracker mounted, then leaned over and grabbed the woman by the hair, saying, "Go make camp, along the creek where we stopped.  Understand?"

          She nodded.

          He gave her a rough shove and rode out without looking back.

          Northwind watched him go, her eyes flashing angrily.  She glanced back at the white officer's tent, then sighed softly and set out to do as she'd been told.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **That same day**

          Vin knelt, carefully studying the ground in front of him.  Then he rose, walked a few feet away and squatted down again, repeating the same process he'd been using for nearly an hour.  He reached out, touching the desert sand, brushing aside grains and peering at the ground.  Finally, he stood again and glanced out at the landscape.  He waited for a moment, turning things over in his mind, and then gave a small nod, satisfied he'd come to the right conclusions.

He walked back to where Chris had been patiently waiting for him, watching Tanner at work and marveling to himself over the man's skills.

          "Tracks tell two stories," Vin said.  "A few of the renegades, four, maybe five, met with some 'a Ko-Je's people here.  Ko-Je's warriors prob'ly gave 'em food an' other supplies.  That was two, maybe three days ago.  Found Eagle Child's tracks, too.  He wasn't with 'em fer the exchange.  He was out, trailing game.  He met two men – one's not an Indian, Army.  Them two had been here fer a spell, probably talkin'.  Willin' t' wager it's that tracker them Army boys hired t' find the reservation jumpers and one 'a the soldiers.  Tracker might 'a thought he'd found one 'a 'em an' cut Eagle Child up some t' find out where the rest was hidin'. . . but he had t' know when he killed Eagle Child he weren't no renegade."  The man's blue eyes turned stormy.  "I c'n find 'im."

          Larabee shook his head.  "Not sure we want to get caught between the Army and these renegades, Vin.  I know you said they're only interested in going home, but if they've drawn Ko-Je's people into helping them, and we get involved, well, things might get complicated all around."

          "Eagle Child's family deserves t' have the man who killed him, Chris. T' take their vengeance so the boy c'n move on t' the spirit world with an unburdened heart," Vin argued.

          "If that tracker's workin' for the Army, and McNabb finds out Ko-Je's people killed him. . ."

          Vin nodded and sighed, frustrated.  "If the tracker knows, an' he ain't already told McNabb, then he'll probably try an' trade that knowledge fer whatever he c'n get out 'a Ko-Je . . . might be why the Army's lookin' in the wrong direction, too.  He might be gettin' paid by the Indians t' pass along the wrong direction t' McNabb.  Till the jumpers an' the Army's both gone, best t' tell the folks at the Seminole Village, an' Ko-Je's people, t' stick close t' home from now on."

          Chris nodded.

          "Just a shame Eagle Child had t' cross paths with this tracker.  He was a good kid," Vin said, walking back to his horse and rolling up into his saddle.  "When this is over, 'm goin' t' find the man m'self."

          Chris looked over at Vin, remembering what Eagle Child had looked like and said, "When this is over, I'll go with ya."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **Later, back in Four Corners**

          Riding into town, Chris and Vin found Mary and Mrs. Trace, the new schoolteacher, climbing into a wagon, the bed loaded with a few baskets that were filled with food stuffs and other supplies

          Larabee frowned and stopped, saying, "Mary, Mrs. Trace," as he lifted a finger to the brim of his hat.  "You taking a trip?" he asked the newspaperwoman.

          Mary climbed into the wagon seat and took up the reins.  "Mrs. Winthrop's too ill to make it into town.  We promised to deliver some supplies to her."

          "Mary, there are renegades and trigger-happy soldiers out there," Chris said.  "It'd be foolish to go out to the Winthrop place alone right now."

          "I'm not alone," Mary said, glancing at Laura Ann, who smiled back at her, warmed by Mary's confidence in her.

          Chris wasn't sure what to say to that.  He glanced at Vin, but the tracker's amused expression offered no help.  He looked back at the two women and sighed.  "At least take a gun with you, just in case."

          Mary looked skeptical, but Mrs. Trace reached down and lifted a shotgun, resting in across her lap.  "Of course, Mr. Larabee," she said to the gunman.  "We wouldn't think of going without it."

          Chris smiled slightly, then touched his finger to the brim of his hat again, saying, "All right, ladies; be careful."

          "We're always careful," Mary promised him before slapping the reins across the horse's rump and heading of.

          Larabee looked back at the tracker, who was grinning like an idiot.  "What the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded testily.

          Vin shook his head, saying, "Not a damn thing."

          The man in black huffed and continued on to the saloon where he dismounted and started inside, ignoring the chuckling man who followed him.  But he paused at the bat-wing doors and turned.  "Ah hell," he said and sighed heavily.  He walked back and climbed into his saddle again.

          Vin, who hadn't bothered to dismount, grinned and followed the gunslinger as he rode out of town.  They were going to drop in on Mrs. Winthrop, it appeared.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **On the way to the Winthrop farm**

          Mary and Laura Ann rode along in silence for a time before the blonde turned to the teacher and asked, "How's the school coming along?"

          "Very well, thank you.  Josiah's been a great help.  He even put up a blackboard at the back of the church for me to use."

          They continued along, talking about the school, their children and their hopes for the small but growing community of Four Corners.  The dark-haired tracker, when he appeared, startled them both.

          "You, blonde," he snapped, pointing at Mary, "come here, or die where you sit."

          Mary glanced at Laura Ann, who started to lift the shotgun to her shoulder.

          "Don't prove yourself a fool, woman," the tracker snarled at her, drawing his Colt before Mrs. Trace could fit the gun snugly to her shoulder.

          He guided his horse closer to the wagon.  "Now, blonde," he snapped at Mary.  " _Come here_."

          Mary stood and started to climb down, saying softly, "Go back to town; get Chris."

          "Mary," Laura Ann whispered, "you can't."

          "Go back to town, please," Mary begged, afraid the man might just shoot Laura Ann if she didn't cooperate.

          Laura Ann scooted over and picked up the reins, but she couldn't force herself to leave.  She watched Mary walk over to the tracker, who offered her his hand.  Mary took the proffered hand and allowed the stranger to pull her up behind him on his horse.

          "Mary!" Mrs. Trace called, angry and scared.

          "It'll be all right.  Go back to town," she said as the tracker wheeled his horse away and kicked it into a gallop.  Mary grabbed onto the edge of the cantle and hung on, her heart beating frantically in her chest.

          Laura Ann watched for a moment, then cursed under her breath and turned the wagon for home.  A moment later Chris and Vin streaked by her on their horses.  "Thank God," she breathed, pulling up the horse, determined to wait in case someone ended up hurt and needed to be taken back to town in the wagon, and praying all the while that it wouldn't be necessary.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Their horses hooves thundering, necks stretched out as they ran, Chris and Vin urged more speed from both animals as they raced over the desert, finally coming up on either side of the fleeing tracker and Mary.

La Croix had heard them coming and gigged his own gelding to a run, but burdened with two riders, the older mustang wasn't able to outdistance his pursuers.

Coming up alongside the dark-haired tracker, Chris reached out and grabbed Mary around the waist, lifting her off the man's horse and carefully setting her down once he got his own mount stopped.

"Are you all right?" he demanded.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath.  "Go!"

He hesitated a moment, then his gelding lurched and he was chasing after Vin and the stranger.  Mary watched him go, one hand pressed to her chest, the other lifted to shade her eyes as she tried to see what was happening in the distance.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin stayed with the dark-haired tracker, Peso easily matching the man's tiring paint.  And, when he saw an opportunity, Tanner launched himself from his saddle, tackling the tracker around the shoulders and forcing him out of the saddle and to the ground where they landed roughly.

          Both men rolled to their feet, the dark-haired tracker coming up with a knife in his hand.  He slashed at Tanner, who jumped back and dropped into a crouch, ready to fight.  He had a knife of his own, a big Bowie, but he left it in its sheath.  He wanted the man alive, so he could ask him a few questions.

          La Croix lunged, slicing at Vin, who stepped deftly to the side and lashed out with a swift punch to the man's kidney, almost sending the dark-haired man to his knees.  But the tracker grunted and spun, slashing at Tanner, catching the sleeve of his hide coat, but not drawing blood.

Vin grabbed the man's arm, trying to break his hold on the weapon, but La Croix twisted away from his grip.

The pair circled one another, clashing violently, and then pulling back again.  Vin finally saw an opening.  He dropped his shoulder, feigned an attack and charged in another direction, catching the off-guard tracker in the midsection, flipping the man up and over his shoulder.

La Croix landed with a dull _thud_ on the ground and didn't move.

          Approaching the fallen man cautiously, Vin finally leaned in and turned the tracker over.  The knife was embedded in the man's chest, and his eyes were rounded with surprise, but they were no longer seeing.

          Chris edged his black closer, his Colt in his hand and pointed at La Croix.  "He dead?" he asked Vin, hoping the tracker said no so he could shoot the man himself.  How the hell was it Tanner managed to almost get himself killed all the damn time?

          Tanner nodded, panting to catch his breath in the hot, dry air.  A movement in the bushes nearby caught Vin's attention and he caught sight of Northwind disappearing.  He sighed heavily.  "Tracker had an Indian woman with him," he said, then cursed softly.

"Probably his wife," Mary said from the seat of the wagon as she and Laura Ann rolled up and stopped beside the two men.  "I saw them together at the Army encampment."

          "Come on," Chris said, turning his horse.  "Let's get you back to town.  I'll send Josiah and Buck out to deliver those supplies to Mrs. Winthrop."

          "That won't be necessary," Mary said, glancing at Laura Ann, who nodded.  "Mrs. Trace and I will be able to finish the trip now."

          "Mary–"

          "I'm fine," she said.  "Really."

          "All right," Larabee said with a resigned sigh.

          He and Vin watched Mary climb back into the wagon and the two women started off, Mrs. Trace carrying the shotgun across her lap again.  This time it was cocked and ready to fire.

          "Them two got grit," Vin said, watching them go.

          "Foolish if you ask me," Chris muttered, but he felt the same way.  "Let's take this one back to the Army, see if they had him on the payroll."

          Vin shook his head.  "First we take him to Ko-Je.  Eagle Child's family deserve t' see his killer's dead, then we can take 'im t' the Army camp.  'Sides, I want t' know if he was gettin' paid t' keep his mouth shut 'bout Ko-Je helpin' the jumpers."

          Larabee nodded his agreement.  "All right."

          Vin looked down at the man and frowned.  The tracker was wearing a mix of clothing, but the woman he'd caught sight of was dressed like the Jicarilla he'd seen on the run.  But why would someone traveling with the renegades also be working for the Army?  Unless it was to ensure the Army didn't find the renegades.  But if that was the case, why had the tracker killed Eagle Child?  The questions continued to haunt Vin as they wrapped La Croix up, tied him onto Peso's back, and started for Ko-Je's camp.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **That afternoon**

          The two regulators rode into the Army encampment, immediately drawing the attention of the men they passed.  The thin sergeant from town broke away from a group of soldiers and walked over, eyeing the bundle tied behind Vin's saddle.

          "That one of them renegades?" he asked, then spat, his gaze locked on Vin's.

          "No," Chris said, dismounting and cutting La Croix's body loose.  It rolled off Peso's back and landed on the ground, the blanket falling open to reveal the tracker's face.

          The sergeant stared down at the dead man, the muscles in his jaw twitching furiously.  "Shit.  Renegades get him?"

          "No.  Caught him tryin' to have his way with Mrs. Travis," Chris growled, adding, "He got what he deserved."

          "You killed him?" the soldier asked, eyes narrowing as he looked at the gunslinger.

          "Fell on his own knife," Vin said.  "While he's fightin' with me."

          The soldier's gaze shifted.  That made more sense.  He'd heard Larabee was good with a gun, but the breed, it figured he'd use a knife.  "Fell on it, huh?" he snarled and spat again.

          "That's the truth of it," Larabee snapped at the man.  "I saw it happen myself."

          "Major hired La Croix t' find those renegades," the sergeant said, then spat and looked up at Tanner.  "You gonna take his place?"

          "Reckon not."

          The man's beady eyes almost disappeared when they narrowed.  "You want them savages t' start killin' folks hereabouts?"

          "Them people are on their way home," Vin snarled.  "Y' leave 'em be they won't bother nobody."

          The sergeant shook his head.  "Heard it all before."

          "You'd do well to listen this time," Chris said as he mounted.

The two peacekeepers turned and rode out of the camp, leaving La Croix where he'd fallen.

          When they were on their way back to Four Corners, Larabee sighed, saying, "So, he _was_ working for the Army."

          "More likely he was workin' for hisself," Vin replied.  "His woman's dressed like the renegades.  She's one of 'em.  Bet he got hisself paid by McNabb so he could keep the Army off their backs.  But he's workin' for hisself when it came to Ko-Je's people."

          "The he was nothing but a damned thief."

          Vin nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **That night**

          The sergeant opened the flap to the major's tent and stepped inside, saying, "Excuse me, sir, but La Croix's squaw is here to see you."

          McNabb looked up, surprised.  "What?"

          The sergeant shrugged.  "I can send her away, but I thought La Croix might've told her something 'bout the renegades.  Says she won't talk t' nobody but you."

          McNabb set his pen back in its well and sighed.  "Very well.  This is . . . intriguing, if nothing else.  Send her in.  I want to hear what she has to say."

          The sergeant nodded and left.  A few moments later Northwind ducked inside and walked to McNabb's desk, stopping and looking down at the ground.

          McNabb's gaze swept over her.  She was passably easy to look at, but she did not rouse his passions, being, in his mind, nothing but a dirty savage, and a heathen to boot.  "So, Northwind, isn't it?  What have you come to see me about?"

          "Justice," she said in thickly accented English, still looking at the ground.  "I want justice for my husband."

          "I cannot give you that," McNabb said.  "He laid hands on a white woman.  He deserved worse than the quick death he was given.  That was a charity I would not have extended."

          She frowned, her lips pressed into a tight line.  She had seen the woman, the one with the golden hair who had spoken to her here, in the soldier's camp.  She knew what La Croix had intended to do to the woman, but it did not matter.  She was without a husband.  "You provided for my husband, you should provide for me, my children."

          Major McNabb stood and walked around his desk.  He stopped, leaning back against it and crossed his arms over his chest.  "You husband provided a service, Northwind.  What can you give me?"

          She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes briefly.  "You will not help me," she stated, seeing the truth in his green eyes.

          "No, I will not," he replied.  "Not unless it is to my benefit – anything to get out of this godforsaken wasteland.  That, I'm afraid, is the way of the world."

          She looked up again, this time meeting his gaze and holding it, her expression defiant.  "Your world and mine are _not_ the same."

          "No, they are not," McNabb said, adding, "thank God.  Go, Northwind, find yourself another husband among your own kind; there is nothing here for you."

          She dipped her head again, turned and left without another word, or a look back.  She knew who was to blame, and she would have her revenge.

          McNabb watched her go, frowning.  La Croix had been a useful annoyance until this last time, when all of his skills seemed to have evaporated like spilled water in this infernal heat.  He frowned.  Perhaps the renegades weren't getting help from the breed in Four Corners after all.  Or maybe La Croix and the breed were working together.  A falling out between them could explain how La Croix had ended up dead.

          The major walked back around his desk and sat down, thinking.  Northwind was an Apache woman, he could tell that much from her dress.

          McNabb cursed softly.  Had La Croix been lying to him the entire time?  The renegades weren't headed for Mexico, they were headed back to where they had come from – north.  "Sergeant!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ *

 **The next morning**

          Josiah rode up to where Ko-Je stood on a small hill overlooking his camp, lifting his pipe to the Spirits, wishing Eagle Child a swift journey into their world.  He dismounted and walked over to join the old chief.  He stood in silence until he felt the time was right, and then said, "It is a good morning, Ko-Je, and a fine day.  Eagle Child will have an easy journey to the Spirit Land."

          Ko-Je nodded.  "Yes, Eagle Child will have an easy journey . . . and once there he will chase spirit deer and live without hardships alongside his ancestors."  The old man looked to Josiah, adding, "But that is not your belief."

          Josiah grinned.  "Ko-Je, it is my belief that my Heaven and your Spirit World are neighbors, with no fences between them, and that there are many paths to each."

          The old man smiled and nodded his approval.  "The tracker, La Croix, was he the one who killed Eagle Child?"

          "Vin thinks so, yes."

          The old man nodded.  "Then he is the one.  I did not see them when they came yesterday, with the man's body."  Ko-Je sighed sadly.  "Tell Vin that the tracker had a wife, a Jicarilla."

          "Like the renegades?" Josiah asked, frowning.

          Ko-Je nodded.  "She is sister to one of their chiefs."

          Josiah cocked his head to the side and studied the old man.  "Why do I think there's more to this than you're telling me?"

          "It is there for you to see, if you have the eyes," the old chief replied.

          "Ko-Je, if there's something about these renegades we need to know, you should tell me."

          He shrugged.  "Many tribes have been scattered by the white men – the Army, ranchers, settlers. . ."

          "And?"

          He shrugged again.

          Josiah sighed, a little frustrated, but his attention shifted when he saw smoke rising from along the creek that snaked through the landscape in the distance.  "Wet wood?" he mumbled.  "Who would be that stupid?"

          "A white man?" Ko-Je offered with a small smile.

          Josiah grinned and chuckled.  "More 'n likely."

          "They come here, they build, but they learn nothing . . . and they die."

          "Well, maybe this one will run into a good Samaritan."

          "I have heard of that tribe," Ko-Je stated, nodding.  "They were a good people."

          "Yes, they were," Josiah said with an amused grin.  Then he frowned, still watching the rising smoke.  "Something so obvious, it's either a sign of peace, or a trick."

          Ko-Je nodded, his expression unreadable, and Josiah knew there was something more going on, something he needed to understand.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**That same morning, about the same time**

          Vin, making his way back to Four Corners from his turn on dawn patrol, had spotted the smoke as soon as it began to rise into the morning air.  He frowned, wondering who would be so stupid, but there were many possible answers – new settlers who didn't know about the threat of the renegades, travelers passing though, prospectors, bandits, outlaws, hell, damn near anyone who didn't know any better than to signal where they were, which was most folks he'd run into since coming to Four Corners.

          With a sigh he decided he'd better find out who it was for sure, and pass along a little wisdom.  He reined Peso toward the rising smoke and gigged him to a lope, the big black covering the ground swiftly.

When he neared the camp, he slowed, moving silently, gaze continuously sweeping the landscape as he looked for any signs of an ambush.  Nothing looked wrong, smelled wrong or sounded wrong, but it _felt_ wrong to the tracker.

He dismounted, tied Peso to a large mesquite and moved slowly, carefully, toward the campsite.

          Beyond the brush and trees he could see an old mule and a man, whose back was turned to him.  Vin stood for a moment and watched the man, dressed in homespun and a baggy rag coat.  He was squatting, watching a coffee pot that was sitting too close to the flames of the smoking fire.

As Vin continued to watch, the man reached out for the pot, grabbing the hot handle.  He immediately jerked his hand away with a hiss, then sucked his fingers into his mouth.

          Vin grinned.  _Greenhorn_ , he thought, stepping out and saying, "Easy, friend, I see you–"

          The next thing he knew, Tanner was surrounded by several young Apache men, each of then holding a weapon on him.

          _Ah hell_ , he thought, huffing and shaking his head.  _I walked int' that like a damned greenhorn m'self.  'M gettin' soft, livin' in town._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **Two hours later**

          When they reached the Apache camp, Vin was roughly escorted to a blanket that had been spread in the center of the camp.  His hat was taken away, leaving him unprotected under the already blazing sun.  He dropped down, sitting cross-legged and waited, looking totally relaxed and untroubled despite the worry that gnawed at his thoughts.  Five of the young men stayed with him, making sure he didn't try to leave.

          Several minutes later, a small group of warriors approached him, led by an older, silver-hared man.  Vin studied the old man as he drew closer, wondering if he'd seen him before.  He looked vaguely familiar, but Vin had no clear memory of ever having met him before.  He was Apache, or perhaps Kiowa-Apache, so there was a chance he'd crossed paths with him while he was riding with the Comanche.

          Vin stood, but stayed on the blanket and waited for them to reach him.

          The older man stepped up to the edge of the blanket, but not onto it.  He spoke in Kiowa-Apache, a language Vin didn't really understand, although he'd heard it often enough to recognize it.  He just shook his head and shrugged.

          The old man tried again.

"I catch a little 'a what yer sayin'," Vin replied in English, recognizing many of the Apache words from his days living among the Jicarilla while he'd hunted buffalo for the Army.

"Do you know the language of the Comanche?" the old man asked him in that tongue.

Vin gave a single nod and answered in the same tongue, "I do.  And Kiowa.  I am known as Long Eyes by the People."

The old man nodded.  "A good and well known name.  I am Bloody Knife, a name that strikes fear in the hearts of the Comanche and makes the Kiowa go pale with fear."

          Vin met the old man's eyes, saying, "I was born pale, so it has no effect on me."

          The old man held Vin's gaze, both of them smiling ever so slightly, then he nodded and his expression turned serious as he said, "By your hand you have killed the husband of Northwind."  He gestured and a woman stepped out from behind several others, two small children holding tight to her skirts.  "The tracker, Jean-Luc La Croix, was her husband, a Jicarilla by marriage and our customs."

          Vin met the women's gaze, recognizing her as the one he'd seen when La Croix had been killed.  He looked back at Bloody Knife, saying, "Her husband was breaking the law."

          "What law?  White man law?" one of the young Comanche men in the group demanded.  "Our law calls for a life for a life, blood for blood!  If you were of the People you would know this!"

          Bloody Knife held up his hand, silencing the young man.  "You killed her husband.  Take Northwind to wife and be her husband.  You would be welcomed among us, Long Eyes."

          "Bloody Knife, will y' hear some honest words from 'n honest man?" Vin asked the old man in English.

The Jicarilla nodded.

Vin shifted back to Comanche, saying, "I was Christian born and Indian raised, and I could pick a woman of my own kind for my wife.  But if I chose an Indian wife, she would be Kiowa and no other."

          "You are a brave and honest man," Bloody Knife replied, his eyes narrowed, "both of which may cost you your life."

          "Then it's a price worth payin'," Vin replied, again in English.

          The old man sighed sadly.  "You will be tortured before you die."

          Vin nodded his understanding.

          "I have heard the stories.  You are a brave warrior, Long Eyes," the old chief said, hoping to change Vin's mind, "and you will be tortured as a warrior, which means your torment will be more than the common mans'."

          Vin nodded again and said in Comanche.  "It'll be as you say, Bloody Knife, an' I accept it, but I'll ask y' t' grant me a furlough.  I give y' m' word I'll come back t' face yer warriors."

          When someone translated his words from English to Apache, the young men raised their voices, arguing that Vin should not be allowed to leave, that he would run away like a frightened dog, but Bloody Knife raised his hand again, silencing them all.  "And will you give me your word on this, Long Eyes?"

          "Yes," Vin said with a nod.

          "Why do you wish this furlough?" the old chief asked him.

          "T' make peace with m' friends, but most important t' me, t' make peace with one who is more 'n a brother t' me, the man who holds m' heart."

          Bloody Knife nodded.  "Very well, but you must return before the sun sits on the mountains, or we will kill five of the whites."  He looked closely at Vin and then asked, "And what will these friends say when they learn that you will be tortured?"

          Vin thought for a moment, then said in Comanche, "What they say will not be as important as what they will do."

          "And what will they do?"

          "For every hair on my head they will kill an Apache."

          Bloody Knife nodded solemnly.  "So it will be.  You admit you killed Northwind's husband.  You refuse to take her as your wife."

          "Both are true," Vin agreed in Comanche.  "But know this, Bloody Knife, La Croix took a white woman against her will, and he would have lain with her against her will.  He deserved to die."

          "Liar!" Northwind screamed at him.

          Vin met her eyes and, and she looked away.  He added in English, "La Croix also killed Eagle Child, one 'a Ko-Je's warriors.  I know Walking Bear an' his people have been helpin' ya."  He glanced around, recognizing some of the faces he saw there as men and women he'd met or seen in Ko-Je's camp over the past year.

          Northwind glared at him, but she said nothing.

          Bloody Knife turned to her, asking in Apache, "Is this true?  He killed one of Walking Bear's warriors?"

          She glared at Vin, then nodded sharply.

          "Why?" Bloody Knife demanded from her.

          "I do not know," she said.  "He did not tell me."

          The old chief scowled, but he looked back to Vin, who realized why the old man had looked familiar.  "Go, but return as I have told you."

          Vin nodded, saying, "I'll be back."  He grabbed his hat back from one of the warriors and headed for his horse.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **Later that day, back in Four Corners**

          Vin rode hard back to Four Corners, heading straight for the Standish Tavern.  Walking in, he glanced around, seeing several of the men he needed to speak to were already there.  He crossed to where Ezra sat, playing poker with several of the locals.

          "Need t' talk with y', Ez."

          The gambler looked up, his expression slightly annoyed.  "I'm very sorry, Mr. Tanner, but–"

          "It's 'bout m' life, an' maybe m' death," Vin said softly, holding the man's gaze.  "Would mean somethin' t' me if y' come over t' hear it."

          Ezra blinked, seeing the sincerity in the tracker's blue eyes.  He swallowed hard, becoming worried, and looked back at the other players, saying, "I fold.  If you'll excuse me, gentlemen?" as he scooped up his winning and hurried after Vin, who was already talking to Buck and Chris, both of whom looked equally worried.

          Within a few minutes all seven regulators sat around a large table in the rear of the saloon, listening as Vin explained what had happened and what he had agreed to do.

          "Well hell, son, that's easy enough," Buck said, smiling nervously.  "Ya just don't go back."

          "Got t' go back, Bucklin," Vin replied.  "I gave Bloody Knife m' word."

          "This is . . . madness," Ezra said, shaking his head.  He was honestly worried about the tracker and that both surprised and frightened him.  When had he let himself actually become _friends_ with these men?  "To voluntarily face torture?" he argued.  "It's . . . it's barbaric, completely uncivilized to expect a man to hand over his life for the likes of a worthless animal like La Croix.  Why after what he attempted to do to Mrs. Travis–"

          Vin met the gambler's eyes, his small smile stopping the torrent of words and saying thank you louder than actual words ever could, but he still said quietly, "Civilization never made a man out 'a human bein', Ezra.  M' word's all I got, so 'm goin' back."  He glanced around the table.  "I asked fer the furlough fer two reasons," he told them.  "The first was t' ask y' not t' take no revenge if I git m'self killed t'morrow."

          "I can't do it," Chris said, shaking his head, his expression closed down to a cold, stony glower.  He was pushed back away from the table, sitting with his arms folded over his chest.

          Vin met the man's penetrating glare and growled, "It's m' own damn life, Larabee, c'n spend it however I see fit.  I don't want no more 'a them people gettin' hurt.  They're just tryin' t' survive an' keep the life they've known fer generations.  Some of 'em are _my_ people."

          "And the second reason?" Josiah asked the tracker before Vin and Chris ended up in an ugly argument that might reveal more about their relationship than either man wanted to.

          "T' make some plans," Vin said, then grinned slyly at the group, but he spoke to Larabee.  "Hell, Chris, I told 'em I'd come back, I didn't tell 'em I'd come back t' die."

          They all chuckled, except for Larabee, who continued to glower at Tanner, sure the man was going to get himself killed and determined to save him from himself, one way or another.  He couldn't lose Vin.  He _wouldn't_ , not if he could prevent it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **Some time later**

          Chris walked out of the saloon with Vin, the two men heading down the boardwalk to the livery, the short trip passing in strained silence.  Once there, they both paused, leaning against the corral fence and staring out at the desert.  Heat rose from the arid ground, creating shimmering waves in the distance.

          "You really think you're goin' to walk away alive from this?" Chris asked him softly.

          "Hope to," Vin said, glancing at the man he'd come to love more than anything in his life.  "Got plenty t' live for."  Larabee met his eyes.  "Ain't sayin' it'll be easy, but I give y' 'm word 'm goin' t' try – do the best I c'n.  Northwind knows more 'n she's sayin'.  We get her t' tell Bloody Knife the truth, he won't let 'em kill me."

          "Vin, you killed her husband.  What makes you think she'll tell them the truth at all?"

          The tracker shrugged.  "Man who'll play all sides like La Croix ain't much of a man.  'M bettin' she knows that.  If Ko-Je confronts her, she'll talk."

          Chris shook his head, still not liking the tracker's plan, but he couldn't come up with anything he thought was better.  "Damn, Vin, I don't know if I can just wait while you try to get yourself killed out there."

          "What 'm askin' is hard, Chris, I know that," Vin said, reaching out to rest his hand on Larabee's shoulder.  "Jist–"

          "Damn it, you can get _killed_ , and for what?"

          "Fer honor, an' fer some people who jist want t' be left alone t' live their lives in peace, on their land, in their way.  It ain't that much t' ask.  Hell, Cowboy, any one 'a us c'n get hisself killed any day of the week, an' fer no damn good reason.  This means somethin' t' me, Chris.  Help me get these people out 'a here safe.  An' help me keep   Ko-Je's people from endin' up dead fer helpin' 'em.  Please."

          Larabee sighed, his heart racing, his guts tied into cold knots of fear.  "I just don't want to collect that bounty any time soon, ya hear me?"

          Vin smiled.  "That shack 'a yers could use a new roof, y' know."

          Chris leveled a sharp glare on the man.  "Ain't a shack."

          "Sure as hell looks like one t' me," Vin said, heading into the livery.

          Larabee followed him, watching in silence as Vin readied Peso.  When it looked like he was done, the gunman stepped up and grabbed Tanner's shoulders, pulling him around and capturing him in a crushing kiss.  They parted, breathing hard.

          "Hell, that's reason 'nough t' live right there," Vin breathed, blue eyes full of passion and love for the gunslinger.

          Larabee shook his head and sighed heavily.  "You better get out of here before I save Bloody Knife the trouble of killing you," he growled, but he reached out, clasping the tracker's forearm tightly.  "Watch your back, Vin," he added, his voice rough.

          "Y' do the same, Cowboy," Vin replied, then rolled up onto his gelding.  "Y' jist keep the rest 'a the boys away from the camp t'morrow.  It'll be over by nightfall, one way or the other."

"I'll do what I can, but I won't be here, not if I'm trackin' down Sergeant Evans."

Vin nodded his understanding.  "Jist make 'em understand they's got t' stay away from them Indians."  And with that he headed out of town.

          Chris watched him go, then sighed heavily and turned around, heading back to the saloon.  They had a lot to do, and not much time to get it done in if they were going to pull this off.  And they _had_ to pull it off.  He'd be damned if he'd lose Vin now.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

 **That evening**

          Vin rode back into the renegade camp, meeting the eyes of the men and women who came out of their lean-tos to watch him pass.  There were a few hostile stares, but for the most part he saw respect in their eyes.

          Before he reached the center of the encampment war cries erupted and he was surrounded by the warriors, pulled off his horse and forced over to the same blanket he'd been confined to earlier that day.

          Bloody Knife pushed though the younger men and met Vin's gaze, nodding.  "Your word is good, Long Eyes."

          Vin nodded once.

          "I give you a chance to live.  Take Northwind as a wife.  You can still take a Kiowa wife later, if you desire.  You have proven you are a man of honor."

          "Cain't do it," he replied in English.  "She lies."

          Several of the women gasped and some of the warriors cried out for Tanner's blood when the words were translated.  Bloody Knife's eyes narrowed.  "Why do you say this?" he demanded.  It was an extreme insult.

          Vin shifted to Comanche.  "Bloody Knife, I believe Northwind knew what lies her husband was living here, and it was more than just protecting you and your band on your trip home.  I believe she knows why La Croix killed Eagle Child, and, if I survive, I will ask her to tell me that truth before you take my life."

          Northwind paled slightly, but she kept her head up, her gaze locked on Vin's, her eyes defiant.  She had thought he was nothing more than a white man, and now she wondered if she hadn't made a terrible mistake.

          Bloody Knife pointed to the blanket and Vin sat.  Tanner knew he would be there all night, and that was just fine with him.  It would give him a chance to think about what he would face the next day, the friends he might not see again, and the love he might never share again with Chris Larabee.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **The next morning**

          Vin watched the camp slowly come awake.  And, as soon as the sun rose above the horizon and the morning meal had been eaten, Bloody Knife and the other warriors assembled across the camp from where he sat.  They talked for a short time, and then they headed over to join him.

          Bloody Knife looked down at the tracker and nodded.  "We will begin."

          "Wait!" someone called.  "Others are coming!"

          "He told the Army where we were!" one of the warriors cried in Comanche.

          "No, I did not," Vin snapped.

          Northwind's oldest son, a young man in his late teens, grabbed his knife, but the old chief reached out, stilling his hand before he could strike at Vin.  "Who comes?" he called to the scout, watching from the top of a jagged hill.

          "It is Walking Bear, and several white men."

          "Army?" Bloody Knife asked the lookout, the worry in his voice clear.

          "No.  They do not wear the blue uniforms."

          "Ko-Je comes, with white men," Bloody Knife told Vin in Comanche.

          The tracker made no reply, but it was clear to the old chief that Long Eyes had not expected this, and he was worried.  And well he should be.  Whoever had come, their fates would be now be determined by how well Long Eyes handled the trials to come.  Knowing the lives of these newcomers hung in the balance would put an additional burden on the young man.

          Several minutes later Ko-Jo, and the rest of the Seven, minus Chris, rode into the encampment.  Vin sucked in a sharp breath and cursed softly under his breath.  Larabee had _promised_ he would try and keep the others away.  What the hell was he thinking?  What was Buck thinking?

Ko-Je swung down first and walked over to meet Bloody Knife, the two men exchanging words that became heated several times, both men raising their voices and gesturing angrily.

Bloody Knife finally nodded, and then turned back to Vin, saying in Comanche, "We will continue.  But know this, Long Eyes, the lives of these men now rest upon your shoulders."

          Vin heard Ko-Je translate that for the others.  The peacekeepers all looked surprised, but confident in him.  He sighed softly.  Sometimes, he decided, they had too much faith in him.  It made him tingle with pride and affection, but it also scared the hell out of him.

          Vin turned to Bloody Knife, asking, "Will y' let me talk t' m' friends?  There's a reason they come out here, an' I need t' know what it is.  Y' do as well."

The old man nodded.

Vin hurried over to the five men, asking them in a soft rasp, "Why th' hell're y' here?"

"The Army's on their way," Buck said quietly.  "They started lookin' in the right direction yesterday evenin'.  I crossed paths with a scout when I was out on patrol this mornin' and he told me they was getting' ready to deal with the renegades.  I hung around to see what they did at the camp, and sure enough, they're gettin' ready to ride.  Josiah thought Ko-Je would know how to find ya . . . the Army will probably find the camp before nightfall.  These people need to leave – now."

"Damn," Vin hissed.  "But why're y'all here?"

"We thought if the Army did show up before they could get on their way, maybe we could keep these folks from gettin' killed if we were here," JD said, glancing nervously around the encampment.

Vin closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at them and growled, "That's only goin' t' work if these people don't kill y' first."

"We just wanted to help them, Vin," Josiah said, glancing nervously at Ko-Je, who stared impassively at the old Jicarilla chief.

"I know y' did, J'siah," Vin said, "but these folks ain't like Ko-Je's people, or the folks at the Seminole Village."  He paused, looking first to Ko-Je, who ignored him, then looked to the others and asked, "Where's Chris?"

"Lookin' for Evans.  Said he had a plan of his own this mornin'," Nathan replied.

"We will be safe here, won't we?" Ezra asked the tracker.  "After all, we _are_ here to help these . . . people."

"Ain't that easy," Vin told him.  "I want y' t' listen t' me, an' hear me good y'all.  Whatever happens, don't say nothin' an' don't do nothin'.  Give me yer word, all 'a ya."  And when they had all agreed, he added, "Stay where they put y' an' keep quiet an' we might get out 'a this alive," before he turned and walked back to Bloody Knife.  "These men had nothing to do with La Croix's death," he said in Comanche.  "But they bring important news.  The Army is coming.  They are close.  These men came here because they are my friends, and very foolish.  They believe that they can protect you and your people, if the Army finds you."

          Bloody Knife considered Vin's words and then nodded.  "If what you say is true, and I believe your words, Long Eyes, then they are worthy friends, and honorable men, but nothing has changed for you, only the reasons for it.  We must honor our ways, or we will lose them.  If you fail, your friends will die at your side."

          Tanner sighed softly and nodded.  It was what he had expected, but he'd had to try.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "What did they just say?" Josiah asked Ko-Je, worried by the concern he saw in the tracker's expressive blue eyes.  "And what did you say to Bloody Knife earlier?"

          The old chief met Josiah's troubled, stormy gaze and said sadly, "I never thought to see this day, my friends, but my brother does not believe me."

"Your brother?" Buck snapped at the old chief.

Ko-Je nodded.  "As what was said, Vin will be tortured in our place.  And, if he fails, we will all die."

          "What?" JD squeaked.  "But I thought they were gonna do this because he killed that woman's husband."

          "Things change," Ko-Je said and sighed sadly as he and the others were led over to two blankets that had been spread out on the ground and told to sit.  They did, wondering what would happen next.

          After a few minutes, Josiah leaned over and asked softly, "Ko-Je, can you tell me what's happening here?  Maybe if we understand it, we can find a way to stop this before somebody actually gets killed."

          The old man sighed again and said, "It cannot be stopped, my friend.  But I will tell you this – I told my brother that Northwind's husband came to me and demanded we give him silver, or he would tell the Army of the help we gave my brother, and we would be killed by the man called McNabb.  I told my brother I knew La Croix was also taking silver from the Army as well.  One of my warriors saw this happen.  My brother did not believe me."

          "But why did he get so mad?" the preacher asked, remembering Bloody Knife's furious expression from earlier.

          Ko-Je met the preacher's eyes and said, "The woman, Northwind, is our sister.  I have dishonored her by saying her husband lied to all of us, since she did not tell us of his deception, as she should have.  I am very disappointed in her.  La Croix killed her spirit, but my brother refuses to see this is true."

          Josiah sighed softly.  They were in trouble, much worse than they had realized.  "What are they doing to Vin?" he asked the old chief as the women stripped the tracker of his clothing.

          "He will be tortured," Ko-Je said sadly.  "It is a test, in four turns, sometimes five."

          "A test?" JD asked, looking over at the old man, confused and worried.

          Ko-Je simply nodded.

          "If this test is not conducted swiftly, the Army might just arrive and put an end to it by killing us all," Ezra said hotly.

          Ko-Je leaned forward and turned so he could see the gambler.  "That may be so, but it is too late to stop it now."

          The regulators watched in silence as Vin, who appeared completely unconcerned about his sudden public nakedness, was led over to an old tree, long dead when the spring that had once fed it had dried up.

          Nathan's eyes narrowed slightly as his trained gaze took in the various scars on the tracker's body.  "Vin's seen some rough times," he said softly, shaking his head.

          "They are about to get much worse," Ko-Je replied.

The men watched as a rope was tossed over the largest of the weathered limbs and Vin was deftly tied and then pulled up so he was suspended several feet off the ground.  The women, each of them carrying switches, formed a circle around the tracker and began to beat him as they hollered and keened.

          "What kind of test is that?" Buck hissed softly.

          "A test of strength," Ko-Je said, watching the man's torment impassively.  "Listen well, my friends, Vin spoke the truth to you.  You must not interfere.  If you do, then we will all be killed, your friend included.  You understand?  You must allow Vin to face these tests alone.  Ask the Spirits, or your One God, to make him strong, because he carries all of our lives on his shoulders."

          Buck shot Josiah a hot look, wanting to take their chances, but the older man shook his head.  "We wait," he said.

          "Damn it," Buck snarled.

          "We have to trust Vin," Josiah growled back.

          "Mr. Tanner has been full of surprises," Ezra said quietly, "let us pray this is no exception."

          The peacekeepers fell silent as they continued to watch.  Vin jerked and twisted under the almost constant rain of blows.  At first he pulled his knees up, trying to protect his genitals, but as time passed, he couldn't keep them tucked against his chest and, after he started to shake, he finally had to lower his legs and endure whatever blows fell.

The women continued to circle around him, scourging him as they went.

          "How long's this gonna go on?" Nathan asked the old chief several minutes later.  Vin was sweating profusely, his sodden hair plastered to his face, every inch of his skin crisscrossed with red welts.

          "Until they are finished," Ko-Je replied.

          "He ain't goin' to be able to take much more," Nathan said softly, watching Vin's chest heaving as he sucked in huge gulps of air.  But the tracker refused to give voice to the agony he was enduring.

          Ko-Je had no reply.

          Each of the regulators continued to watch until they could no longer stand to see Vin's suffering and had to look away.  Ko-Je, however, watched every blow fall and, across the camp, Bloody Knife did the same, both men hoping the man could survive.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin wasn't sure how long they had beaten him; he had stopped feeling the pain somewhere along the way, finding that place in his mind where it could no longer reach him, a place he had discovered a very long time ago.  He focused on staying in that place, and enduring, without letting the women see his pain.  He could tell his body was suffering, but he felt none of it, resting in his place of silence, his place of balance.  He thought about Chris, holding fast to the knowledge that he had to survive.  He had to live for Chris.

          Images of the lives together filled his thoughts, memories of the nights they had shared . . . holding each other, loving one another, losing themselves in feelings more powerful than anything he had ever experienced.  For Chris he could endure anything.

          And he held on to that, to Chris, and endured.

          Some time later he heard one of the women shout and the rest of them turned and walked a short distance away, taking among themselves for a few moments.

Then the woman who had shouted nodded to Bloody Knife.

The chief waved to the two men standing next to the tree and they cut Vin down.

Tanner fell heavily into the dust, the sudden impact jarring him from his sanctuary.  He forced himself to stand straight, his shoulders back, his head up even as his arms and legs trembled and sweat poured down his face and chest.  His entire body felt as if it was on fire, but he ignored the searing pain and waited.

Several minutes passed and then the women all began to keen, shaking their switches at him before they threw them aside and walked away to join the warriors who had been watching.

Vin sighed softly, his shoulders sagging just slightly.  It was over – for the moment.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "I take it he passed this barbaric trial?" Ezra asked, looking away from the red welts that covered the tracker's body.

          Ko-Je grunted and nodded.

          They watched as several of the younger men stepped up and surrounded Vin.  Someone handed the tracker a pair of moccasins, which he put on.  Then one of the warriors grabbed the rope that still bound Vin's hands while another rolled onto his horse.  The rope was handed up to the man on horseback and he started off.

          "What're they doing now?" JD asked the chief, watching Vin as he jogged alongside the man and horse.

          "Endurance," Ko-Je stated as the young man on horseback picked up the pace.

          Over the next hour they watched Vin struggle to keep up with the small paint mustang as it moved through the desert.  He jogged, he ran and, after falling a few times, he was dragged.

The last time he fell, Vin eventually stopped the horse and rider by looping the rope around a rocky outcrop and yanking the horse to a stop, which prompted a series of war cries from the warriors watching.

"Can he do that?" JD asked, afraid Vin might get himself killed.

Ko-Je nodded, a slight smile curling the corners of his mouth.

The horse stopped, Vin jerked the rider off and the regulators could see him yelling at the Indian, although they were too far away for Ko-Je to hear what was being said and translate it for them.

Then, suddenly, the two men were racing on foot across the desert.

"Come on, Vin," Buck encouraged the tracker softly.  "You can do it, stud."

          Vin and the man reached the camp, running side by side, the tracker matching the warrior stride for stride.  And, when they stopped, Tanner stood straight, breathing hard, but refusing to gasp in the air his lungs craved.  Beside him, the young Apache did the same, begrudging respect in his black eyes.

          Nathan started to stand, wanting to check the bleeding wounds Tanner had picked up out in the desert, but Ko-Je reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking his head.

          The healer settled back onto the blanket, but his eyes flashed angrily.

          Bloody Knife stared at Vin for a long moment, and then nodded.  A cry went up from the warriors and one of them stepped forward.  The rope that bound Vin's hands was cut loose, falling into the dirt.  Then the tracker was handed the knife, which he accepted, glancing warily around to see who his opponent would be.

          A sturdy man in his early twenties stepped out from among the others to face him.

          "They gonna fight now?" Nathan asked Ko-Je, his brow furrowing with worry.

          The old chief nodded.  "A test of cunning."

          "They gonna give him some water?" the healer asked.  "He needs some water.  Or some clothes?"

          But Ko-Je had no reply.

          Buck shook his head, the others muttering angrily to themselves.

          "Want ta take any bets on this one?" Buck asked Ezra, but it was no criticism of the gambler, just a need to vent some of his rising anger.

          "Of course," Ezra replied, trying to sound lighthearted.  "I have complete faith in Mr. Tanner's skills."

          Ko-Je grunted.  "The question is whether Vin does."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin unconsciously checked the weight and balance of the knife in his hand, his gaze scanning the assembled warriors for the one he would be facing.  When the muscular young man stepped out, the tracker felt his heart begin to beat faster.

Could he defeat the man?  His legs were weak and trembling, his arms sore and sluggish.  But he knew he had no choice.  Defeat meant death, and that was something he could not allow.  He couldn't hurt Chris by getting himself and the others killed.  But he knew he couldn't rely on his body this time; he would have to outsmart the man to defeat him.

Vin and the young man circled a few times as they sized each other up.  Watching closely, Tanner could see that the man was strong, but not as fast as he had expected.  The warrior would try to overpower him with his strength, which meant he had to bide his time, staying swifter until an opening came.

Tanner allowed his mind to drift, shifting into the hunter he knew lived within his soul.  It was a part of him that could track and kill a man without hesitation, he part that had made him a successful sniper during the war.  It was that aspect of him that was patient and sure, as well as relentless and merciless.

And when the hunter arrived, Vin allowed himself to drift away to a place where he could relax and watch, knowing the hunter would find the opening he needed to defeat his foe.

The killing dance that unfolded was familiar and, in some odd way, comforting to Vin.  And, when he and his opponent moved as one, each lunging in, swinging their knives at one another, and then backing out again, Tanner breathed in the heady thrill of it.  The process was repeated, again and again, blood being drawn on both sides.

But Vin knew his body was slowly failing, but the hunter was stronger than his flesh and it pressed on, baiting the man and slowly luring him in for the kill.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After several long minutes had passed it was clear to those watching that both men were tiring, but Vin in particular seemed to be struggling.

"Come on, Vin," Buck encouraged softly.  "Take 'im."

And then, as if he'd heard Buck's words, Tanner erupted with a burst of speed, his foot lashing out, kicking the Apache's knife out of his hand.

          "Look at that!" JD yelped excitedly.  "I've never seen anything like _that!_ "

          "Indian fightin'," Buck said, watching the unfolding battle, his eyes narrowed with concern.  Vin had been holding his own, but he was obviously tired and hurting.  Wilmington could see the bruises that were developing on the tracker's ribs and back.  And the tracker was bleeding from several cuts he'd picked up out in the desert, not to mention those carved into his skin by the knife-wielding warrior.  The Apache warrior only had to wear him down and then overpower him.  "Come on, Vin," he said softly.  "Quit stallin' and take him while ya still can."

          Then, seeing what he thought was an opening, the young Apache warrior took it, dumping Vin onto the ground and coming down on top of him.  But the tracker had known what the man was planning, and had let him do it.  Now, Tanner swung his legs up, wrapping them around the man's neck and flipping him off his chest.

Vin rolled with the young warrior in a fluid motion, coming up with his knife still in his hand.  He pressed it against the young man's neck, his lips curled off his teeth in a feral snarl.  "I c'n take yer life," the hunter growled at the warrior, but his gaze darted to Bloody Knife, who expression gave away nothing, "but I won't."

Vin stepped off the man, still holding his knife ready, just in case.  "Y' fought well, brother."

"As did you," the man replied in Comanche.

          Bloody Knife held up his hand, putting an end to the fight.

          Ezra released the breath he'd been holding, saying, "It appears our Mr. Tanner's skills extend beyond those with horses . . . and are even more amazing than I had once imagined."

          "Ain't that the truth," Buck said, sighing with relief.

          "But he's payin' for it," Nathan said softly, worriedly.  And before he could ask Ko-Je what was coming next, Vin was hauled over to the same dead tree where his ordeal had begun.  A broken limb had been tied to the trunk to create a cross-shape that the tracker was lashed to, his arms held securely out at his sides.

          The younger men gathered in a group, whooping and screaming, working themselves into a kind of frenzy.

          "Ko-Je?" Josiah asked, frowning.

          "The hardest test," the old man said.  "Courage."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin allowed them to tie him to the old tree, still trying to catch his breath.  His tongue felt thick and his mouth was dry, making it hard for him to swallow.  He welcomed the ropes, though, which took some of the burden from his tired, aching muscles.  He was thirsty, but knew there would be no respite until the trials were over.

He watched as the warriors worked themselves into a fury and knew he had to stay calm if he was going to survive.  A task easier said than done.  It wouldn't help that he was starting to feel lightheaded, or that his body was failing him – both the result of thirst and heat, he knew.

          After several minutes had passed, one of the warriors stepped out with a knife in his hand.  "You are lower than a woman," he jeered and Bloody Knife translated the man's words into Comanche for Vin, who could see Ko-Je doing the same for the other peacekeepers.

          The warrior hurled his knife at Vin and it sunk into the trunk of the dead tree with a dull _thunk_ , several inches from the tracker's face.

          "Nothing is lower than a snake," Vin jeered back in Comanche, Bloody Knife translating again.  " _You_ are a snake.  _You_ are at the bottom."

          The man glowered at Vin, who could feel his heart racing as he panted for breath, but the warrior stepped aside for the next man.  Tanner drew in a deep breath through his nostrils and held it a moment before letting it out again.  The muscles in his legs and abdomen twitched uncontrollably and he could only hope that it didn't show.  Any sign of weakness and he would be dead, the others right along with him.  And he could _not_ allow them to die.  He had to stay strong a little while longer, until Chris arrived, and he knew for certain Larabee would come.

Digging down deep inside himself, into that part that had helped him survive every horror he had ever faced, Vin pulled up the strength and determination he needed to continue.

          "Show me how a white man trembles!" the next warrior snarled in Comanche.

          The tracker's eyes narrowed and his lips curled off his teeth.  "I do not tremble for mosquitoes or vermin, why should I tremble for you?" Vin asked him in the same tongue.

          The man cried out his rage and hurled his knife, which landed only a couple of inches from Vin's ribs.

          Then, before the tracker had a chance to really register just how close the second knife had come, one of the Apache warriors charged him.  The young man screamed his war cry and raised his knife up over his head as if he planned to plunge it into Vin's chest when he reached him but, at the last moment, it sank into the wood just above the tracker's shoulder.  Tanner had held the man's gaze the entire time, refusing to blink or look away.  The man held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned and walked away.  Vin allowed himself a soft sigh and swallowed hard.

          Then one of the warriors began to laugh as he handed his knife to an old man, gesturing toward Vin, who swallowed hard again, worry creeping into his eyes for the first time.  It looked like the old man was blind, or damned close to it.  His hands were also gnarled and trembling.

"Take your time, grandfather," Vin called in Comanche.  The warriors laughed when Bloody Knife translated.

The old man nodded and carefully lined up his throw several times before he actually took it.  The blade sunk into the tree trunk, an inch below Vin's genitals.

          "Oh shit," Buck wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

          "Yeah," JD gasped, fighting the urge to cup himself protectively.

          "You have my respect, Grandfather," Vin called to the man in Comanche, grateful his voice didn't shake or break like he'd expected to.  "Even half-blind you are better by far than these younger dogs."

          When Bloody Knife translated the words the Apache warriors exploded.  Knifes and arrows thudded into the tree, a few nicking Vin's skin but, through it all, the tracker's expression remained steadfastly calm and unconcerned, as if he were waiting for the to the sun to set and nothing more.

          "Bloody Knife, more strangers come!" the scout called, putting an end to the test.

          "Who?" the chief asked, his brow furrowing with worry.

          "Two men, and a woman.  One of the men is carrying a peace flag, the other is a soldier, but he is bound."

          Bloody Knife nodded and the three new arrivals were allowed to enter the camp and dismount.

          Vin sighed softly under his breath, hoping Larabee had gotten the truth out of Sergeant Evans.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Mary's eyes widened when she saw Vin standing naked and bloody, tied to an old tree.  Then someone started to cut him loose.  She quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks turn a rosy pink.

          "Why have you come, woman?" Bloody Knife asked her in English.

          Mary swallowed hard and said, "I have come to ask you to spare Mr. Tanner's life.  He is a good and honorable man.  He only killed the man called La Croix because La Croix had forced me to go with him.  I have no doubt what he planned for me, but I was spared that horror, thanks to Mr. Tanner's actions."

          Bloody Knife called for his sister and Northwind joined him.  "You heard her?"

          Northwind nodded, but she said nothing.

          "I am very sorry you lost your husband," Mary said, reaching out to lightly touch Northwind's shoulder.  "I lost my husband as well.  He was killed by men who wanted to silence the truth he was speaking about them.  If you allow Vin to be killed, you will be guilty of doing the same to him.  Vin has told the truth about what your husband has done."

          Northwind looked up, meeting Mary's frightened blue eyes, holding her gaze for a long, silent moment, then she nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.  She turned away from Mary as they began to fall, ashamed of the weakness she had shown in front of a white woman.

          Bloody Knife frowned and glanced over at Ko-Je before he addressed Chris, who was standing next to Mary, holding Sergeant Evans, whose hands were tied behind his back.

          "The Sergeant here has something to tell you," Larabee said, adding, "if you'll listen."

          Bloody Knife glanced briefly at his sister, then sighed and nodded to Chris.

          Larabee gave the sergeant a jerk and Evans said, "La Croix was gettin' paid by Major McNabb to track ya down.  But I knew 'bout his wife being with ya.  I told him I'd help him turn the Major to the locals if he'd pay me, and he did."

          "Tell 'em about Eagle Child," Larabee snarled softly.

          The sergeant sighed, flashing the gunman an angry glare before he added, "The boy came across me and La Croix out in the desert.  La Croix told me to leave, so I did, but I . . . I heard the boy screamin' while La Croix cut him up."

          Bloody Knife looked down at the ground, muttering in Apache.  When he looked up again, he said loudly, "Long Eyes will not be killed," and then repeated it in Kiowa-Apache and Comanche.

          "No!  He deserves to die!  He is a white man.  They steal our homes, they kill us!" one of the warriors yelled.  He stepped out and hurled his knife at Vin, who threw himself aside.  The blade just missed him and sank into the tree trunk.

Tanner scrambled to his feet and grabbed the handle of the knife, pulling it free.  A moment later, the fight was on, everyone scrambling back out of the way.

          It was a short, vicious battle, and Vin ended up straddling the man, his knife pressed against his throat as he snarled, "Want t' show me how 'n Apache trembles?"

          The warrior looked up at Tanner, real fear in his eyes.  He hadn't understood the man's words, but he understood the emotions flashing in the pale blue eyes.

          Vin saw the man's fear and felt the hunter's anger dissolve.  He took a deep breath and stepped off the young man.  He tossed the knife down and walked over to where his clothes lay in a pile, putting them back on.  When he was dressed again, he walked back to Bloody Knife.

          "Where do we stand, Uncle?" he asked the old chief in Comanche.

          "I have learned much today, perhaps too much," the old man said, his tone sad and defeated.  "You have earned your freedom, Long Eyes."

          "And m' friends?" Vin asked him.

          "Tell me why I should spare their lives and if the reason has merit, I will do so, to honor a brave and honest man," Bloody Knife replied, holding the tracker's gaze.

          With that, Ko-Je stood and the others followed his lead.  The old chief walked over to stand with Chris, Mary and the sergeant.

          "What's happening?" Chris whispered to Ko-Je, who explained that Vin had proven himself worthy and would not be killed, nor would they, if Vin could provide a reason Bloody Knife would accept for them to be spared.

          Chris' gaze flashed to Vin, and he caught the man's eyes.  The casual assurance he'd come to rely upon was there in the blue depths and he sighed softly with relief.  Vin would get them home alive, he was sure of it.  And when he did, he was going to kill the man himself!

          For his part, Vin took a deep breath and carefully chose his words.  He spoke them in Comanche, Ko-Je translating them into English, Bloody Knife into Apache.  "Mrs. Travis only came to try and save my life.  She does not understand your ways.  She is a kind and decent woman, who holds no hatred for anyone in her heart, which is reason enough to spare her life.  Please, Uncle, give the woman her life so she may return to her son and teach him to be as kind and honorable as she is."

          Bloody Knife considered the words for a moment, then he nodded.

          Vin's gaze shifted to Dunne and he continued.  "JD is no more than a boy, but he has proven himself both brave and loyal.  He does not hate the Red Man, and is learning to respect our ways.  He will be a man worthy of your respect, if you allow him to live and to learn."

          JD blushed furiously when Bloody Knife glanced and him, taking stock of what he saw, and he nodded again.

          Vin pointed to Jackson, saying, "Nathan is a healer, Uncle, and a good man.  He was once a slave, but he never let the hatred that can poison a man who's been treated as less than human touch his heart.  He doesn't look to see what color a man is before he cares for him.  He heals all who ask for his help.  He is promised to a Seminole woman, and will honor the ways of her people when he takes her as his wife."

          Nathan met Vin's gaze and nodded his thanks.  Bloody Knife nodded as well.

          The world spun slightly and Vin took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow before he looked to Sanchez.  "J'siah is a man of God, Uncle, but not the God of the missionaries who come to strip you of your ancestors and your ways.  J'siah is a wise teacher.  He has learned the stories of many gods, and the many paths to reach them.  He walks his own spiritual road with purpose, a good companion to any who befriends him, and many in the camp of Walking Bear and the Seminole call him friend."

          Josiah grinned slightly and dipped his head to Vin in silent thanks.  Bloody Knife weighed the words and nodded again.

          Vin's gaze shifted to Standish.  "Ezra still fights the demons in his heart.  He often has trouble seeing the goodness in himself, but he is learning, even if the lessons are sometimes painful.  Allow him to live, Uncle, so he might finish his journey and come to see himself for what he truly is – a brave and honorable man; a good friend to us all."

          Ezra's eyes rounded with surprise as Ko-Je translated Vin's words and he felt his cheeks turn red.  He tried to keep his poker face in place, but he couldn't.  Was that truly how Vin saw him?  If so, then the gambler knew the tracker had more faith in him than he did in himself.  And, for the first time in his life, Ezra wanted to live up to someone else's expectations.

          Bloody Knife's eyes crinkled when he saw the man's face turn red, and knew Long Eyes had seen into the man's true heart and read it wisely.  He nodded.

          Vin's gaze shifted to Buck, who shifted nervously from foot to foot, not at all sure what Tanner could say about him.

"Buck is a special kind of man," Vin began.  "He loves women, and because he does, he sees them in a special way, he sees the beauty that lives in every woman's heart, and nothing gives him more pleasure than to see that beauty set free.  He protects them – young or old, beautiful or plain.  His heart is kind, his spirit loyal.  Spare him for all the women who will keen and wail should he die here."

          The ladies' man turned deep red and he tried not to smile.  It wasn't what he'd expected to hear, but it was all true, and he was glad that someone besides Chris knew the truth that drove him into so many women's arms.

          Bloody Knife regarded Buck for a moment, then he looked to the women, who stood together to one side.  The oldest nodded her approval, and Bloody Knife nodded as well.  Then he said, "You do not need to speak for my brother, Long Eyes.  I know Walking Bear is an honorable man.  My pride blinded me, and I can only hope that he will forgive me that insult."

          Ko-Je nodded and offered his brother a small smile, as well as his hand.  The two men embraced briefly, then stepped apart again, all insults forgiven, on both sides.

          "The soldier, Long Eyes, what will we do with him?" Bloody Knife asked him.

          Tanner thought for a moment.  "You should spare the man's life, on one condition – that the sergeant returns to his unit and tells the Major the renegades have fooled them yet again.  That they have escaped into Mexico.  The threat is gone, and he still doesn't know who was helping them.  It was probably just La Croix, trying to make as much money for himself as he could."

          Evans shot Vin a burning glare, but he held his tongue, knowing he could end up at the end of a rope if the Major found out he was in cahoots with La Croix.  And there were eight white witnesses who could tell him, if he didn't do what the breed wanted him to do.

          After a long silence Bloody Knife said, "I will spare his life if he agrees to do this."

          "Well?" Chris said, giving Evans a shake when he didn't reply to Ko-Je's translation.

          "All right, damn it.  I'll do it," the soldier snarled.

          Bloody Knife nodded and looked to Larabee.  "And this one?" he asked the tracker.

          Vin thought for a moment and then sighed softly and said, "I give you no other reason than that I would endure your torture again, and again after that, to spare his life."

          Larabee looked to Ko-Je, but the old man did not translate the words.

          Bloody Knife looked from Chris to Vin and back again.  "Such a bond is rare and worthy of respect for its own sake.  He may live."  Chris met and held Vin's gaze, looking worried as the old chief added, "You will always be welcome among us, Long Eyes."

          "Thank you," Vin replied.  "It is an honor to be respected by those whom you respect."

          Bloody Knife nodded, then grinned and added, "Even if you do not tremble with fear."

          Vin inclined his head slightly to the side and grinned back, saying in English, "Guess 'm jist a stupid white man sometimes."

          Bloody Knife threw back his head and laughed, the other Indians joining in while the rest of the Seven and Mary looked slightly offended.

          Vin's horse was led over and he rolled up into the saddle, waiting while the others mounted as well.  "Hurry, Uncle," Tanner told Bloody Knife.  "We'll make sure the Army don't find y' fer a few hours, at least.  Hopefully they'll believe the sergeant an' leave y' in peace."

          The old man nodded, then turned to his brother saying, "My mistake is unforgivable."

          Ko-Je shook his head.  "Things have changed, my brother.  We are not the same men we once were, but we are still brothers."

          Bloody Knife nodded.  "Come with us."

          "I cannot.  My people have made peace with the whites.  We will live here," he said, looking at Mary and the Seven, and adding, "with our friends."

          Bloody Knife glanced at the seven men and the beautiful blonde woman and nodded again.  "With friends such as these, your decision is a wise one.  Safe journey, my brother."

          "And to you."

          As the Seven rode out of the encampment, along with Mary, Ko-Je and the sergeant, they passed men and women, all of whom chanted a war song for the white man they knew as Long Eyes.  Vin sat straight in his saddle, grateful his friends couldn't understand a word of it, and wishing the desert would stop spinning past his eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Once out into the desert, Ko-Je turned and headed for home.  The peacekeepers told Chris what had happened to Vin.  Larabee shook his head, glancing regularly at the tracker, who seemed oblivious to the stories being told about him.  And that worried the gunman.

After a short while, Chris pulled up, saying, "Buck, take Josiah, Ezra and JD with you and get the sergeant back to McNabb.  See to it he lives up to his end of the bargain.  Tell McNabb that Vin and I are confirming that the renegades crossed over into Mexico."

          Buck nodded, taking the reins to the soldier's horse from Chris.

          Vin started to follow them, but Chris reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm, saying, "No, not you.  Nathan and I are taking you back to town so he can get a look at you."

          "'M fine," Tanner slurred as he blinked owlishly, wondering why Larabee seemed to be fading right in front of his eyes.

          Nathan edged his horse up alongside Peso and handed Vin an open canteen.  "Here, drink some water," he said, frowning worriedly as he studied the tracker's grey skin tone.

          The blue eyes shifted to the healer, and Tanner blinked, trying to force the man's face into focus.  Then his eyes rolled back in head and Vin slipped bonelessly off his horse, Nathan and Chris grabbing for him, but he landed hard on the ground.

          "Vin?" Mary gasped, her hand going to the base of her throat.  She watched as both Nathan and Chris dismounted and rushed to the fallen man's side.

          "Vin?" Chris called, scooping the smaller man up and cradling him in his arms.  "Vin, ya all right?"

          Nathan reached out, checking Vin's pale cheek, which felt cold and clammy to his touch, although sweat glistened on his skin as well.  "We need to get him into some shade," he told the gunman.

          "The creek's not far," Chris suggested.  "And there's plenty of water to cool him down with."

          Nathan nodded and together they lifted Vin and got him onto Chris' horse.  The gunslinger swung up behind Tanner, gently holding onto the tracker, whose head lolled against his shoulder as they headed for the creek and the shade offered by the palo verde, cottonwood and mesquite that grew scattered along the sandy banks.

          "Chris?" Vin called softly.

          "Easy, Vin, you're going to be all right," the blond replied, his arm tightening on the younger man.

          "M' legs," the tracker moaned, trying to reach for them, but he was too weak.

          "Easy," Chris repeated, urging his horse to pick up the pace.  "We'll get you taken care of in just a bit."

          As soon as they found a spot close to both water and shade, Nathan took Vin from Larabee and half-guided, half-carried him to the shadows, laying him down on the cool ground.  With practiced efficiency, Vin's coat, shirt and pants were quickly removed, leaving him dressed only in the bottoms of his long johns.

Nathan then soaked the tracker's shirt in the creek and wrung the cloth out.  He laid it over Vin's bare chest, then used his canteen to pour water over the material covering the man's legs.  He sat back to see if that helped bring the man around fully.

"Here, Nathan, let me help," Mary said, taking a seat on the ground between Tanner and the creek.  She leaned over to wet the scarf she'd been wearing and used it to bath the tracker's sunburned face.

After a few minutes, Vin moaned softly and opened his eyes.

"Well, hello," Mary greeted him, her voice bringing Nathan and Chris to stare over her shoulder.

Vin looked up at the three worried faces dancing in front of his eyes and frowned.  "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice dry and raspy.  "What happened?"

"Lack of water and too much runnin' 'round out in that desert done took their toll," Nathan told him.  "Think you can take some water?"

Vin nodded, more thirsty than he could remember being in a long, long time.  He slowly sat up, his muscles protesting the movement, sending spasms of liquid fire racing along his arms, shoulders and back.  His damp shirt fell into his lap and Mary glanced away from his naked chest, her cheeks flushing slightly as the sight reminded her of what the rest of him looked like.

Vin saw her blush and quickly pulled his shirt on and buttoned it.  The damp coolness felt wonderful against his abused skin.

Nathan handed him a canteen, warning, "Take small sips or it'll come right back up."

The tracker did as instructed, the fresh, cool water tasting better than any of Ezra's fancy, imported liquors.  His eyes closed and he moaned softly.

"Vin?" Chris asked, sounding worried as he moved closer, reaching out to press his hand against Tanner's back.

The tracker's eyes opened and he looked up at Larabee.  He could see the worry, love and the hunger in the man's hazel eyes and it gave him more strength than he ever would have imagined.  "'M fine, Cowboy, jist that water ain't never tasted so good b'fore."

Nathan grinned at that.  "Ain't surprised.  How's your belly feelin'?"

"Fine," Vin replied, taking several more sips and savoring each one.

"Head ache?"

"Little bit," Vin admitted.

"Legs or belly crampin' up any?"

Vin shook his head.  "Jist got a twitch that's hangin' on."

The healer nodded.  It wasn't as bad as he had expected.  "All right, you just lean back and rest fo' a bit, y'hear.  And drink as much of that water as you can.  Just take it nice and slow."

Vin nodded, unable to protest the way he usually would with Mary sitting there, looking worried and motherly.

She dipped her scarf into the creek again, wrung it out and handed it to Vin, saying, "Tie this around your neck, it'll make you feel cooler."

He took the cloth from her and did as she'd asked.  "Thank y', Mary," he said, a blush coloring his cheeks.

"You're very welcome," she said, standing.  "I'll go see if I can help Nathan."

When she stepped away, Chris took her place at Tanner's side.  He reached out, giving Vin's leg a gentle squeeze.  "You really feelin' better?"

Vin nodded.  "'M ready t' ride."

"Oh, no you aren't.  You just stay right there and finish off that water like Nathan told you," Chris scolded.  "You look like hell, pard."

Vin grinned.  "Reckon I might, but 'm far from dead."

Chris shot him an annoyed glare, but he just didn't have the heart to put any force behind it.  "Looks like they tried their best."

Vin shook his head.  "If they'd wanted us dead, we'd be dead.  They jist done what they had to, Chris."

"At least it's over," Larabee said, absently rubbing the tracker's leg when he felt the muscles beginning to twitch under his hand.

"Hope they make it home," Vin said softly, a faraway look in his blue eyes.

Chris hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "You miss it, don't you – living with them?"

"Sometimes," Vin replied softly, nodding.  Then he looked at Larabee and smiled.  "Helluva lot easier 'n livin' with a bunch 'a mule-headed, deaf, sons-a-bitches who cain't seem t' understand a damn word I say."

Larabee grinned.  "What's that?"

"Y' heard me jist fine, Lar'bee," Vin growled.

"What?"

Vin rolled his eyes and shook his head.  Damn, sometimes having family was a pain in the ass, but he wouldn't trade any of them, for anything . . . especially the infuriating blond grinning at him.  He'd be glad when they got home, because he knew Chris would take him out to the cabin to "get some rest."  But rest was the last thing he had on his mind at the moment, and he was sure it wasn't on Larabee's mind either.

          "Least y' did what y' was told to," Vin said with a sigh.

          "Buck told me about the Army.  You know the others just did what they thought was best.  They had no way of knowing . . . but you knew, didn't you," he stated.

          Vin nodded.

          "That why you had me as far away as possible?"

          The tracker nodded again.

          "Damn it, Tanner, I–"  Vin grinned, stopping Larabee mid-sentence.  He shook his head.  "Probably for the best," he sighed.  The tracker grinned, Larabee catching the expression before it quickly disappeared.  "Got one more question for you."  Vin waited.  "I heard what you said about the others . . . but Ko-Je didn't see fit to translate whatever it was you told the chief about me."

          "Told him y' were too damn ornery t' kill; would be a waste 'a time t' try."

          Chris scowled and huffed out a sigh.

          Vin dipped his head, his gaze sliding away from the gunman.  "Told him I'd do all again t' spare yer life.  Reckon he understood what I was sayin'."

          Larabee felt the heat rush to his cheeks and his throat tightened.  "Me, too."

          Nathan walked back over to join them and check on Vin, ending the conversation.  "Think I better clean them cuts up, then we'll get you on into town."

          Tanner nodded, tired and willing to let his friends take care of him – for the time being.  He looked up, meeting Larabee's eyes and holding them for a long moment, the love he saw there doing more than anything could to make him feel better again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 **The following morning**

          Vin woke with the dawn.  He lay in the soft bed in the clinic, his eyes closed, just enjoying the fact that he was alive.  He could hear the soft breath of someone else sitting nearby, and knew without really thinking that it was Chris.

          Larabee had stayed with him from the time they had gotten him back to town, helping him up to the clinic and remaining close by while Nathan had cleaned all the cuts, scrapes and scratches that covered his body.  Then Larabee had gone to the restaurant to bring him something to eat, sitting with him while he did.

          He'd told Chris to go, get some sleep, but the older man had refused, allowing Nathan to get some rest while he sat up with Vin, keeping him company and asking one question after another about what had happened in the Apache camp.  And the tracker had told him most of it, watching as Chris' green eyes flashed with anger.

          "You knew they were going to do that to you, and you went back?" he'd snapped.

          Vin smiled indulgently.  "Didn't know exactly what they'd do, but I had a purty good idea.  Hell, Chris, I faced worse."

          Larabee had shaken his head over that comment.

          Sometime after that Buck and the others had gotten back, dropping in to see how he was faring.  Evans had been taken back, and he'd given McNabb the news, just like he'd promised.  The major had been unhappy, but he accepted the lie and ordered his troops back to camp so they could pull up stakes and head back to the Fort.  So it looked like Bloody Knife and his people would be able to get home.  Whether or not they would be able to stay there once they arrived was another question, but that was outside of their control.

          The peacekeepers had been a little awkward around Vin, and the tracker wasn't sure what he could do about it.  He just hoped that the memories of what they had seen faded quickly.

          They had wandered off to eat and to sleep, and he was finally left alone with Chris.  Larabee had walked over to the clinic door and locked it, then returned to the bed.  Sitting down on the edge, he leaned over and kissed Vin, lightly at first, and then more ardently.

          It had felt good, and Vin had allowed himself to disappear into the kiss, the feelings it unleashed inside his heart.  He'd reached for Larabee, but the blond had pulled back, saying, "Oh no, you'll just have to wait until we get out to the cabin."

          He'd sighed heavily, but agreed.  Besides, sleep had been dogging him.

          But now he was awake and he felt better than he'd expected.

          Opening his eyes, he pushed himself up and looked around the clinic.  Sure enough, Larabee was sleeping in a chair next to the bed.  And there was no sign of Nathan.

          Sitting up, Vin swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.  He was only wearing the bottoms of his long johns, but he didn't care.  No one was coming in until one of them unlocked the door.  He walked over to the small stove and stirred the embers, then added some wood and put coffee on to brew.  When he was done he grabbed an apple out of a bowl on Jackson's workbench and bit into it.

          Chris sighed and blinked his eyes open, then looked up at the grinning tracker.

          "'M hungry," Tanner said around a bite of the fruit.  "Let's go git somethin' t' eat."

          Larabee grinned.  "You plannin' on getting dressed first?"

          "Yep," Tanner said and grinned, walking over to the chair where his clothes were and started pulling them on.

          "I'll wake Nathan–"

          "Naw, let 'im sleep," Vin said.  "'M fine."

          Chris' eyes narrowed.  "He's still gonna take a look at ya before we ride out."

          Tanner sighed, but grinned.  "All right . . . Mama."  The resulting green glare had no impact on the tracker, who just grinned again at the older man, then wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

          Larabee sighed and tried hard not to smile.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The two men stopped at the bathhouse first, then went to the single restaurant, where each had a large breakfast, then they walked back to the clinic where they found Jackson up and cleaning the small room.  He stopped to look Vin over and, finding no signs of progressing infection, gave Tanner his blessing to head out to Larabee's shack for a few days of rest.

          The two men left shortly after, Chris' saddlebags packed with bandages, powders and other items the healer thought might help if Vin took a turn for the worse, although he didn't think that likely.

          As the two men rode past the small church, they saw Josiah coming out in order to head over to the saloon for breakfast with the others.  Sanchez gave them a wave and stopped to watch them head out, knowing that the time alone would be the best possible medicine for Vin, and for Chris.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**A couple of hours later**

          The pair took their time, enjoying the coolness of the early morning.  And, as they neared the small shack, Vin reined Peso off the trail, heading into the hills.  Behind him, Chris smiled and followed.

          Another hour passed before the tracker pulled his gelding up and dropped to the ground.  He untied his bedroll and passed his reins to Larabee.  Then he walked over to unroll his blankets next to a long-fallen tree under several more trees still growing near the small, shallow creek that cut through the land.

          Without a word, Chris led the horses over to a small stand of stunted trees nearby, tying them in the shade where they could nibble on the grass and drink from the creek.  He removed his own bedroll and canteen and walked back to join Tanner, unrolling his blankets next to Vin's.  Then he sat down and removed his boots, socks and shirt.  The tracker had already stripped down to nothing and was lying naked on his bedroll, his eyes closed.  Near his hand was a small tin that the gunslinger knew held a sweet-smelling ointment that they would use to make love.

          Chris studied the fading welts, the cuts and scrapes that decorated the tracker's body and longed to lean over and kiss them all away, but he knew that was impossible.  His gaze settled on the twin nubs that poked up from the smooth flesh and longed to taste them.  "Feelin' all right?" he asked the man.

          "Yep," Vin replied, his eyes remaining closed.  "Jist a little tired."

          Chris opened the canteen, took a sip and reached out and tapped Vin's shoulder with it.  The tracker's eyes opened and he smiled as he accepted the offered water, drinking down several swallows before handing it back.

          Chris screwed the cap back on the canteen and set it aside, then he stood, stripped off the rest of his own clothing and laid back down next to Vin.  He closed his own eyes, enjoying the feeling of the light, cool breeze that blew over his skin.  From time to time a light spray reached him when a stronger breeze carried drops of water off the surface of the creek.  He relaxed, slowly, the fear and worry of the day before finally fading away and he quickly found himself drifting, caught between sleep and wakefulness.

          Awareness of Vin moving drew him closer to wakefulness.  He opened his eyes, finding Tanner propped up on one elbow and looking down at him.  The tracker reached out, his fingers touching the gunman's, then intertwined with them until they were holding hands.  Vin's palm was cool and dry, his grip firm.  Then Tanner leaned over.

"Kiss me," he whispered, his voice raspy, but still sounding like velvet to Larabee's ears.

The blue eyes glittered in the dappled sunlight and Chris had never noticed, but the man's eyes were fringed with long, thick lashes that were light brown like his chestnut hair.

Larabee lifted himself slightly, but that was the only opening Vin needed.  He leaned over and his lips brushed the blond's lightly, his upper lip caressing Chris' lower one, the contact sending a pleasurable shiver up Larabee's spine.  He dropped back onto his bedroll.

As the kiss became more intense, their lips parted and Tanner's tongue slipped between Chris' teeth.  It was a man's kiss, the lips firm, the stubble on his chin and upper lip prickling against Larabee's face, making him feel warm all over.  But as it continued, their tongues fought for dominance, parrying and thrusting back and forth, tentatively at first, then with increasing vigor.

Vin won out, the tracker's intensity making Larabee's head swim.  Tanner sensed this and his hand reached out, rubbing down the blond's chest.  Then Vin did something he'd never done before – he began sucking the air out of his lungs, then blew it back, swelling Chris' chest.

Larabee reached up, his fingers tangling in the tracker's long hair.

A few moment later Vin pulled back a little, allowing both of them to fill their lungs.  "Damn but yer beautiful," he sighed, his gaze sweeping up and down the gunslinger's body.  He stroked the older man's body, then he leaned forward and flicked his tongue against Chris' left nipple.  A moment later his teeth sank into the fleshy point, establishing a direct connection to Larabee's crotch.

Vin followed up by insinuating his hand between Chris' thighs, pressing up, cupping his cock and balls against his palm.  And the blond's cock strained against Vin's hand.

Then Tanner moved down, easing between, and burying his face between Chris' legs.  Larabee's cock throbbed against the man's cheek.  He sucked the blond's balls into his mouth, then started tonguing the shaft, tracing the bulging veins along the entire length.  He licked all around he swollen glands, kissed the tip, then went down on the older man fast, stopping only when his forehead smacked Larabee's belly.

Chris grabbed the man's shoulders, his fingers closing convulsively, and he groaned softly, reveling in the heat of the man's throat and the fancy dancing of his tongue along his cock, especially when Vin's tongue found the trigger tucked beneath the head, and his cock flexed, pushing deep into the tacker's mouth.

Vin pulled off slow, with just the hint of teeth, sucked the head until it bulged, then swallowed him back down to the hilt, bouncing Chris' balls off his chin.  He sucked, hip lips hot and wet against Larabee's belly and balls.  He rose up, slid down, first fast, then slow, his tongue working variations on every thrust.

Chris stopped him when he couldn't bear the pressure of his lips and tongue a moment longer.

Vin looked up, smiled, and treated Larabee to another toe-curling kiss.  Chris moaned at the feel of the man's sleek frame pressed against him, and at what his mouth was doing to him.

Then the tracker shifted onto him, and Chris hugged him, his hands moving all over the younger man, their tongues twining around each other, their cocks pumping against each other.

"I need ya, Cowboy," Tanner whispered into Chris' ear.  "Need t' feel y' inside 'a me."

Larabee shuddered at the man's words and he nodded.

Vin moved off of him and stood.  He picked up his bedroll and draped it over the fallen tree.  Then the tracker knelt, straddled the log, and split the cheeks of his butt.  Chris looked at him waiting for him to mount, Tanner's arms braced in front of him against the log, head bent, toes digging into the dust.  The blond's cock vibrated like a tuning fork.

          Chris picked up the tin, walked over and lowered himself behind Vin and kissed his neck, his shoulders, his back, being careful to avoid the worst of the healing wounds.  He kissed the little triangle of light hair at his tailbone.  He could smell and taste the scent of the soap the tracker had used earlier that morning, mixed with the heady musk that was Tanner's alone.

Then, his hands on Tanner's thighs, Larabee ducked his head lower, licked the man's crack and kissed the tightly puckered rosebud of his hole.  It fluttered against his lips and gaped for him when he thrust his tongue into the hot, dark center.  Vin groaned softly and his thigh muscles swelled beneath the blond's fingers.

Chris rose slowly, opened the tin, and scooped out enough of the slick ointment to coat his cock.  He set the tin aside and kissed Vin's back, his hands moving from the tops of the younger man's thighs to their insides, then to the hot, hard shaft of his cock.  He stroked it, pushing his thumb inside Vin's foreskin as he slowly pushed the head of his own cock through the ring of muscle, beginning to stretch it open as he held himself just inside of the man.

Tanner pushed himself up and leaned back against Chris, his head on the blond's shoulder, his mouth on the older man's throat.  Then he scooted back, impaling himself, engulfing Chris in the sweetest heat he'd ever known and the gunman thrush his hips forward, his cock burning like fire inside the tracker as Larabee plowed deep into his bowels.

Larabee peered over Vin's shoulder, watching the younger man's cock weep clear honey onto the bedroll as his hips continued to move, wedging his cock deeper, his hands stroking the tracker's belly at the same time.  Then he moved his hands up, finding the stiff points of Tanner's nipples, thrusting out of the dark brown circle of flesh he'd admired earlier.  When he pinched them, Vin's muscles squeezed him tight, and his cock rose, stretching until the flared head emerged form its cowl of skin.

Larabee pulled on the sensitive nipples and began pumping in and out of him, his balls dragging across the material of the bedroll.  Finally, he was buried to the hilt, his thick cock skewering the tracker where he stood.

Vin groaned, leaned over and raised his ass.

Chris' thighs slid under his, his belly pressed against the tracker's ass, his chest against the younger man's back as they began rocking out the rhythm of love and longing.  It was slow and easy at first, Chris' thrusts increasing in speed and strength until he was stabbing in and out of the tight, hot channel, his balls slapping against Tanner's ass, making him grunt as he mercilessly battered the semen-bloated orbs against the tracker's sweat-coated cheeks.

"Chris!" Vin gasped as Larabee bucked hard, his knob beating against his prostrate, unleashing bolts of pleasure that made the younger man ache to come, which he did.    "'M comin'. . ."

Chris grabbed Tanner's cock in both hands and pumped it, his own cock flexing convulsively.  Vin's body jerked and shook as his orgasm hit and Larabee felt the man's hot seed begin gushing out of him, trickling over his fingers.

The gunslinger fell against Vin, pushed him down onto the log, and fucked him until he blew his own seed up the man's clutching hole.  And he kept right on fucking him until his cock went soft.  And after that cock slipped out of Tanner's ass, they took the bedroll and went back to Chris', lying down curled up together and dropped off to sleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The lovers woke again relatively quickly, both needing to move off a short way to relieve themselves.  They returned to their bedrolls and lay down, holding each other, kissing and petting in a leisurely way.

But, before long, Larabee had gained the upper hand and he enjoyed the feeling of the tracker jerking and shivering under him.  His warm lips teased at Vin's chest and the younger man gasped at the first flick of Chris' tongue.  Then the blond's mouth closed over one nipple, sucking it to hardness and rubbing his tongue over the sensitive peak.

"Think you're up to returning the favor?" he asked the tracker short while later.

          Vin grinned, blue eyes glazed with pleasure.  "Hell, if I ain't now, I will be in a little bit."

          Larabee chuckled and lowered his head again, this time to rim the tracker's navel while his long fingers combed through Vin's pubic hair, then slipped down to roll his balls in his palm, squeezing and pulling on them until Tanner was fully hard again.

And when the younger man's cock quivered and a filament of precome dripped free, Chris caught it on his fingertip and drizzled it like icing around Tanner's cock head.  Vin could barely hold still while Larabee smoothed it in, making the deep-red knob glisten in the muted sunlight until the older man sucked it into his mouth.

Chris knew just the right pace, and the right places to tease the man.  And after a couple of minutes, when Tanner's shaft was slick with saliva, he pulled away before he took it too far.  He rolled back on the bedroll, his knees locked in the crooks of his arms to expose the most intimate part of himself for Vin.

Tanner stared down at the brown bud nestled between the smooth curves of Larabee's ass cheeks for a moment, then leaned down and kissed the older man there, feeling Chris tremble in response.  He dilated, exposing a hint of deep pink interior for a moment.  Looking up, meeting the man's green eyes, he knew Chris wanted him inside him as badly as the tracker wanted to be there.  But Vin forced himself to go slow.  He didn't want to rush this.

Vin found the tin and opened it, taking out enough ointment to coat himself.  Then he took a little more, rubbing it over the waiting bud, enjoying the feel of it grabbing at his finger.  He took another small scoop and worked inside the blond with his finger, sighing as he did.  Chris was so hot, so silky, and his cock jumped wildly each time he bumped the older man's prostrate.

Then, unable to resist, Tanner leaned down and took Chris' balls into his mouth for a moment, rolling them around on his tongue, tasting them.  Larabee moaned and rocked his hips up.  "Vin," he called, "hurry."

Tanner knelt up, moving closer until his cock brushed the bottom of Chris' ball sac.  He titled the shaft down until he felt the heat of the man's pucker in the tip.  He leaned into the older man, sighing with pleasure when he felt Chris open for him.  He knew he'd always enjoy that first moment of sliding inside the man he loved.  It was like sliding into liquid fire, Larabee so hot and silky around him.

His hands slid up Chris' thighs as he pressed deeper and the blond wiggled his butt to take more of the tracker.  "Oh yeah," he said as a sigh.  "Oh Vin. . ."

Tanner gave a push and his balls smacked against Larabee's buttocks, letting him know he was fully buried.  He held still for a moment, just looking down into Chris' eyes as the gunslinger smiled up at him.  "Y' feel s' good," the tracker hissed.

"Vin," Larabee whimpered.  "Please."

Tanner began with a gentle rhythm – slow, deep thrusts that made him aware of every inch of his cock.  And he loved the look on Larabee's face every time he bumped the older man's prostrate.  He changed angle and tempo, massaging it with rapid thrusts of his cock.  "Y' feel so good," he breathed.  "So hot 'n' tight 'round me."

"Yes," Chris replied.  "So good . . . Vin . . . more. . ."

And the younger man picked up the pace, pumping strongly into his lover.

Vin wanted to get deeper and deeper inside of Chris.  He wanted to get so close that nothing could separate them.  He took the older man's legs on his shoulders, leaning over him so he could kiss him.  He could feel Larabee's hard cock, trapped between them, and his belly quickly became sticky from all the precome Chris was leaking.  Their mouths locked together, forming one more connection as they rode together toward the peak.

Chris grunted, bucking his hips up to meet Vin's thrusts, needing the release that was building deep inside of him.

Hearing the need in the sounds Larabee was making, the tracker slipped his hand between them and found Chris' cock, the man's balls tightly hugging the rigid shaft.  He wrapped his hand around it, and Chris immediately began fucking his fist.

Tanner's hips drummed against Larabee, who began to thrust upward more demandingly, locking his heels against the younger man's buttocks.  His body arched, and his head lolled back, his face set in a grimace of tortured ecstasy.  "Vin. . ." he moaned.

And Tanner gave him what he so needed.  He punched into Chris' ass, beating against his prostrate while his hand jerked and squeezed the older man's cock.

Larabee began to jerk wildly, crying out his release as his semen gushed out, splattering against Vin's chest and stomach.

And Vin cried out as well as Chris' guts began to spasm around his cock – powerful ripples surging up and down his shaft.  And the rich male scent of Chris was a potent aphrodisiac.  He couldn't hold back any longer.  He slammed against Larabee, trying to drive every inch of his body into the man.  He gasped against Chris' neck, sobbing out the older man's name, over and over again, as his hips locked against Larabee, his orgasm tearing through him.  Crescendos of pleasure rose and broke over the tracker, shattering him with their force.  "Chris," he sobbed, "God, Chris . . . Chris. . ."

And when his body finally released its hold on him, Vin sprawled across Larabee, his heart hammering against the older man's chest.  "I love y', Chris," he whispered as soon as he got some of his breath back.

Chris wasn't in much better shape.  The truth, the feelings he'd heard in his chanted name had shaken him to the core.  He knew then that every one of his feelings for Vin were returned just as completely and as deeply.  It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.  How had he been so blessed?  How was it possible?

"Love you, too," he gasped and pulled Vin down into a kiss neither of them had the breath for.  He felt the tracker's tears and hugged him tightly to his chest.  "Vin?  What is it?  Are you hurting?"

He felt the man's head shake and decided that what Vin needed most was to he held, so he held him until they were both breathing normally again.

Finally Tanner eased off the gunman, snuggling up next to him and holding on to him tightly.

"Vin, tell me what's wrong," Chris urged softly.

"Ain't nothin' wrong," the younger man whispered.  "Jist sometimes I love y' so damn much it hurts.  Makes me feel like 'm gonna bust clean open."

Chris smiled tenderly at that.  "I know, Vin, I know."  Then he hugged the man more tightly.  "I feel the same way . . . yesterday . . . I was so damn scared you were going to get yourself killed out there. . ."

Vin shook his head.  "I knew I couldn't do that t' ya . . . knew I had t' live."

Chris felt the sudden sting of tears in his eyes.  "Glad you knew that, because it's true.  I . . . I lost love once, Vin . . . I can't do that a second time."

Tanner nodded, unable to understand how Chris had survived the first time, knowing that if he ever lost Larabee he would die.  There was no way he could survive with his heart withered and dead in his chest.  He closed his eyes, listening to the man's heart beating and silently thanked God or whatever Spirits were responsible for giving him the man.  Then he thanked Sarah, deciding that she must have walked at Larabee's side until they finally met.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," Chris said a short while later.  "Nathan will skin me alive if I let you end up with an infection."

Tanner chuckled softly.  "Yer sure afraid 'a that man."

"And you aren't?"

They slowly climbed to their feet, then moved back into each other's arms for a brief but heartfelt hug, then they moved to the edge of the creek and washed up.  They dressed once they were dry and readied their horses for the ride to Larabee's cabin.

And once they were mounted they smiled at one another and turned for the small homestead, secure in the knowledge that they had survived another test of their love.

As long as they were together, they would survive whatever life threw at them.

 

 

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